


Summer - Assembly

by hellogaywatson



Series: Talk Science to Me [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Consistently Canon, Lots of scriptlifting where appropriate - sometimes more than others, M/M, Science Bros, Science lovers, With a few minute differences, also polyamory because Pepper, but with a lot more sex, minute I say!, sometimes it's like The Avengers: The Novelization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:56:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 67,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellogaywatson/pseuds/hellogaywatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If it had taken Dr. Banner the originally supposed few weeks to track down the Tesseract, this is definitely what would have happened.  Definitely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summoned

_You know, for a man who’s supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle._

_Avoiding stress isn’t the secret._

_Then what is it? Yoga?_

_You brought me to the edge of the city. Smart. I, uh…I assume the whole place is surrounded?_

_Just you and me._

 

Nobody could bring a mixed reaction out of him like Agent Coulson.

Such a sweet face. A competent man. More than capable of handling the unlikeliest of scrapes with calm confidence, just that simple smile in the face of the worst possible scenarios.

Such a sweet, competent, cockblocking harbinger of doom. Breaking into his sacred space, overriding his security protocols, and staring him down with that same small smile, void of anything resembling actual happiness.

“Mr. Stark.”

Pepper smiled back at him all fondness and light. “Phil! Come in.”

_No. Pepper. Don’t encourage him._

“’Phil?’” he said out loud, incredulous.

“I can’t stay,” Coulson told Pepper.

“Uh – his first name is ‘Agent.’”

“Come on in,” Pepper insisted, inclining her flute glass towards Coulson. “We’re celebrating.”

“Which is why he can’t stay,” he said though a painfully faked smile.

They _had_ been celebrating, dammit, and SHIELD or no SHIELD a major breakthrough in clean energy was a pretty fucking big deal. There was champagne. Quality time with Pepper, which was never in surplus. And she was wearing The Shorts, with a shirt he was at least halfway certain wasn’t hers. He had wanted to get closer, to check. And now ‘Phil’ was watching his every move like a spinster chaperone.

Why _now?_

Why ever, to be fair?

Coulson advanced on him with a terrifying, official black folder. A thick one. Probably full of information designed to ruin lives and personal happiness.

“We need you to look this over as soon as possible.”

“I don’t like being handed things.”

“That’s fine,” Pepper intervened, “because I love to be handed things, so let’s trade.” He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but through Pepper’s mastery of corporate sleight-of-hand suddenly Coulson had a drink and he didn’t, and the folder was weighing down his own hands. “Thank you,” she said without a trace of remorse, taking a sip of champagne.

This was probably what he had coming to him after his comments earlier concerning credit and percentages. She had warned him it wasn’t going to be subtle.

“Official consulting hours are between eight and five every other Thursday,” he informed Coulson, seeking a last desperate refuge in sarcasm, but SHIELD agents were snark-proof. They probably had special training.

“This isn’t a consultation.”

 

 

_Are you here to kill me, Ms. Romanoff? Because that’s not gonna work out for everyone._

 

 

“Is this about the Avengers?” Pepper asked, curiosity peaked. “Which I – I know nothing about,” she added quickly.

Welp. The data was here; no point in ignoring it. He walked it over to the room’s port and opened the folder – sure enough, once unfolded it may as well have been a laptop, or at least a tablet. Damn thing weighed at least five pounds, easy. Sloppy. “The Avengers Initiative was scrapped, I thought. And I didn’t even qualify.”

“I didn’t know that either,” Pepper insisted.

“Apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed, don’t play well with others?”

“That I did know,” she said, not so under-her-breath that he couldn’t hear it.

“This isn’t about personality profiles anymore,” Coulson said, deadpan.

“Whatever. Ms. Potts, got a second?” He beckoned her over. She made an apologetic gesture to Coulson and joined him at the port, beautiful and barefoot.

“You know,” he said, loading the data into the holo projector, “I thought we were having a moment.”

“I was having twelve percent of a moment.”

There it was. Well, fair enough.

“This seems serious,” she added in a whisper. “Phil’s pretty shaken.”

“How would you know if it’s -“ More importantly, “Why is he ‘Phil?’”

“What is all this?” she asked as if she hadn’t heard him, indicating the folder.

“This is, uh – this.” He swiped the initial set of three files out and into the holo and they came to life, blaring color and sound – profiles, news footage, ID shots, a massive informational overload, and cutting through it all an almighty _roar._

 

 

_What if I say no?_

_I’ll persuade you._

_And what it the…Other Guy says no?_

 

 

He couldn’t look away. There was so much there, so much to take in and process and try to make sense of, but this was one big green angry hurtle he was just going to have to try and tackle first.

_Ah. That guy._

He’d heard of the Hulk. Everybody had, if they followed U.S. news. He knew the basic story of Dr. Bruce Banner’s accident, a replica of his own father’s work gone so terribly wrong. Hell, he’d had to do some placating of the press and public himself when the whole thing came to light. Both of these characters, their all-too-different faces gazing side by side out of that holo screen, had become legends – Dr. Banner a cult favorite but legitimate genius of Sagan-Hawking proportions in the scientific community, and – well, he had assumed the Hulk that existed in the collective unconscious of American culture was like any other urban legend. Monday somebody flushes a lizard, and by Friday there’s alligators in the sewers. Now the truth was roaring out of that screen from better, cleaner, more intimate footage than the news had ever had, SHIELD’s private stash. It was raw and unexaggerated and undeniably real. Based on every physics class he’d ever taken, it was also impossible.

_Well, I don’t every time get what I want._

 

Of course, the next file over was impossible in its own right once he realized what he was seeing. _They found Cap. He’s alive._ Good old SHIELD, bending the laws of time and space. Raising the dead. All in a day’s work.

How the fuck.

His dad’s voice came up unbidden in his mind’s ear. _The finest man I ever knew, Tony._ Yeah, well, you would know, huh dad? You made him to order. No variables there. You must’ve been so proud.

And who was the third one? Oh, of course. The alien.

He was not looking forward to opening the rest of these files.

“I’m going to take the jet to DC tonight,” Pepper said softly, bringing him back down to earth.

“Tomorrow,” he pleaded. Zoning for more buildings could wait, surely - ?

But she got serious with him. “You have homework. You have a _lot_ of homework.” She knew this onslaught of information was going to be heavy handling, and was trying to remove distractions.

“Well, what if I didn’t?”

“If you didn’t?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean when you’ve finished? Well, um, then…” She brought her lips to his ear and burned him with promises, promises, and he played it up, letting his jaw drop, scandalized and delighted. Coulson was positively squirming. Served him right.

“Square deal. Fly safe.”

They kissed, quick but tender. How bad could anything be, really, if Pepper was waiting at the other end of it?

“Work hard,” she whispered by way of a farewell, and went to join Coulson. “So any chance you’re driving by LaGuardia?” she asked as they both boarded the elevator. Tony waved them off and turned back to the files, vaguely aware of their voices fading away as the door shut.

“I can drop you.”

“Fantastic. Oh, I want to hear about the, uh, cellist. Is that still a thing?”

_Whew. Ok – here we go, then. What other horrors does Phil have in store for us, hm?_

 

 

_Doctor, we’re facing a potential global catastrophe._

_Well, those I actively try to avoid._

_This is the Tesseract. It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet._

_What does Fury want me to do, swallow it?_

_He wants you to find it. It’s been taken. It emits a gamma signature that’s too weak for us to trace. There’s no one that knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was, that’s where I’d be._

Pretty simple shape, to be causing so many problems. He spun the hologram around in his palm, scanning it for any distinguishing characteristics, but it was just a cube. It wasn’t telling any of its secrets.

The whole thing stank to high heaven, that was for sure. Aliens, gods, an awful lot of pomp and circumstance, obscuring the unlikely concept that SHIELD had been planning on joining him as a competitor in the clean energy market. Just like them, to only ask for help once their toy had been stolen. It stung a little that they thought he was dumb enough to eat up this kind of story without question.

Or maybe they were just desperate.

 

 

_STOP LYING TO ME!_

 

He wasn’t entirely sure if he was ready for this. Whatever was really going on, it was a helluva lot bigger than psychotic coworkers and angry Russians with lightning whips. Anybody with half a lick of sense would back out, find somewhere else to be and fast.

He closed his fingers together in midair, shooting the contents of the extended files back into the databank. Then he pulled up the original three again.

And yet.

It wasn’t every day you got to take out a mythological trickster with the help of a dead guy and a prestigious leading member of the scientific community.

His eyes were drawn again to that personification of rage.

It wasn’t every day you got to examine a major natural phenomenon up close and personal, either.

Besides, If Dr. Banner was as good as the file said he was, they’d have this cube back in no time. Easy.

 

 

_I’m sorry. That was mean. I just wanted to see what you’d do. Why don’t we do this the easy way where you don’t use that, and the Other Guy doesn’t make a mess. Ok? Natasha?_

He settled in to do some intensive reading, and damned if SHIELD didn’t know just how to hook him in anyway – astrophysics, portals, technology beyond the wildest dreams of any human being currently living.

If SHIELD needed a little extra firepower to get the job done, that wasn’t such a major commitment, really.

 

 

_Just you and me._

 

 

It wasn’t as if he’d be going in alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from the original screenplay for The Avengers, 2012, written by Joss Whedon. You're the boss, Joss.


	2. Acquainted

It was no secret that SHIELD were not his favorite people in the world, but he had to admit – although of course never aloud – that the helicarrier was a total Tony Stark wet dream.

He’d flown out the morning after Agent Coulson had shown up at Stark Tower with his load of unwanted but intriguing information. He brought along enough clean clothes and tech for however long the endeavor took, and it was weird tossing a heavy-duty backpack on over the suit, but hey, still better than flying with an airline – no weight limits for carry-ons, and he didn’t even need to put his shampoo in a gallon Ziploc.

Coulson gave him the coordinates via phone, and guided him in for landing – the craft had stealth panels and was impossible to spot from any great distance. Even up close the tech was impressive, and landing on something that reflected the sky above him and then his own silhouette was downright uncanny. Coulson signaled to him from the other side of one of the many airlocks, a floating head against the window, and brought him inside.

God, the craft was a thing of beauty. It was a masterpiece. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of it – poke it, prod it, see how it ticked. Find ways to make it even better. But he didn’t have time.

“Mr. Stark.” Coulson greeted him, and Tony did his best not to crush his hand when they shook, although he caught the agent wincing. “Glad to have you onboard. And sorry to send you out again. You’re going to need to set an immediate flight plan for Germany. We have a facial read on Loki, and whatever reasons he has for being in Stuttgart on high profile, they can’t be good.”

“I didn’t figure on getting comfy. Give me the coordinates and the lowdown.” He slid out of the backpack. “Oh, and stash this somewhere I can find it when I get back?”

And, well, a lot had happened since then. Introductions had been made, some more violent than others. They didn’t have the cube, but they’d nabbed themselves a trickster. Director Fury was giving Loki an initial “interview” any minute.

Considering he was an alien, Loki made Tony uneasy in ways that were all too familiar – he smiled when he told his lies. And while Tony and Thor duked it out, he just sat and _watched,_ no escape attempt, just waited around for them to get it out of their systems. He looked as if he’d _enjoyed_ it.

According to Coulson, the rest of the team was gathered around the main conference table on the bridge spying in on the exchange via security cam. Tony didn’t want to miss it, but he’d just gotten in from an intense fight, in the suit, with a superhuman, and he smelled terrible. Not a great first impression for any team members he had left to meet.

Which was who, exactly? He did a head count.

Agent Romanoff would be there. The two of them went way back, and she’d seen him in much worse shape.

He’d met Thor – hence the exertion – and learned a few things:

-If a god lands on your jet, you should not open the airlock.

-If a god gets into your jet because you opened the airlock and takes your prisoner/informant and jumps, you should attempt to communicate before just trying to kick his ass.

-“Mouthing off” is not a good substitute, in this case, for “communicate.”

Whatever. What was life if not an opportunity to learn things and then conveniently forget them.

Tony _liked_ Thor, much to his surprise. The alien’s entire existence and significance had aggravated him early on. Every kid born on the tail of the space race had dreamed about first contact, imagined the impact, fantasized endlessly about the tech other worlds could bring – well, maybe that last one had just been him, a kid locked in his bedroom building circuit boards and burying his nose in Asimov. Then Thor happened, and it was just – classless. B-movie stuff, showy and unsubtle. It was kind of a letdown, even for a grown man.

But as it turned out, Thor’s lack of subtlety was what endeared him to Tony. No human being was that transparent; you knew exactly where you stood with Thor. It wasn’t the alien’s fault that his planet was a Flash Gordon cast-of-thousands horror show where tech was referred to as “magic” and refused to follow simple rules like physics. Mjolnir was a problem, Mjolnir made Tony want to hiss and spit and cuss a blue streak, but Thor was all right. His only glaring flaw was his soft spot for Loki – talk about not learning from experience.

So Romanoff, Thor, probably a higher-up or two like Coulson or Hill, Steve –

Ugh.

Tony had absolutely no idea what to do with Steve Rogers.

Maybe it was a military thing. Rogers was like The Original Soldier, and Tony had always had problems with military personalities, with his best buddy being the only, very rare exception.

A freshman level psych major would probably call out the fact that they were, in a strange sense, products of the same person, and that person had loved Rogers more than him. But he didn’t set much store by that theory either.

If he was honest with himself, it really bothered him that the guy was alive at all. Not in a malicious way, it wasn’t that Tony wanted him dead – you cheat death, come back to life? Woohoo, good for you – but seeing that stupid-handsome face from sepia photos and old news reels living and breathing in front of him was deeply unsettling. It was nonsensical. People did not simply go into accidental cryo and live to tell about it. The implications there of what the serum could do were staggering. Tony wondered if Rogers would let him take a blood sample, but he was really not keen on asking.

Because at the end of the day, Rogers had a stick so far up his ass that he was at a definite risk for brain damage. And that was where the real difficulty lay.

He decided he was willing to clean up just to give Rogers one less excuse to give him that look that suggested Tony was the biggest disappointment of his long-ass life. But he was forgetting someone, right? Romanoff, Thor, Rogers –

Oh yeah, Dr. Banner.

…he definitely didn’t want to get introduced to Dr. Banner smelling like unwashed socks.

Tony left the suit in the designated alcove and headed to his assigned quarters.

All the comforts of home, assuming home was a dormitory: small boxy room, small bed, a simple table with a lamp for furnishing. It brought back fond memories of MIT. But hey, at least he didn’t have to share a shower with forty other guys here, although that hadn’t always been the worst of circumstances if memory served. His backpack was waiting for him on the bed. He had packed one decent suit, and he hung it on the bathroom door so that the steam would get some of the wrinkles out.

Hot water felt _good,_ but he was on the clock, and anyway helicarrier showers ran on a timer to conserve water supplies. He moved as fast as he could washing, drying off, getting dressed. Coulson was waiting for him outside his room.

“Director Fury’s started interrogation, but without much success,” he reported, guiding the pair of them though the helicarrier’s maze of corridors back to the bridge.

“Not shocking. Agent Phil, please tell me I’m not the only one who’s disturbed by how easy this was.”

“You kidding? Everyone on this boat is tense. The sooner we get the cube in our hands and Loki back on Asgard, the better we’ll all sleep. I hear Rogers got put through his paces.”

“Once Loki's theatrics were over. God, how I hate drama kings.”

“Present company excluded?”

“You’re hardly a – wait, you were talking about me, weren’t you? … _ouch_ , Phil. I thought we were friends.”

“Eh. Just be glad you’ve got Ms. Potts as an intermediary.”

“How _do_ you know Pepper so well, Agent?”

“Really? 2008? Mutual protection? Teaming up to take down an under-the-table arms racket – any of this ringing a bell for you?”

“Ok, 2008, if you’re talking Obadiah – in my defense I was a tad preoccupied.”

“Well, let’s just say that wasn’t the only time you were lucky to have her watching your back.” Phil turned him aside for a moment. “I mean it – you’re lucky. I hope you understand that.”

“Phil.” Tony clapped him on the shoulders. “I do.”

“I mean,” he added as they kept on walking, “even if I didn’t wake up with that understanding every morning, I’d know by now because people keep on _telling_ me. This criticism wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain musician?”

Phil gave a tight smile. “This job doesn’t allow for a lot of flexibility. She saw a better opportunity, she took it.”

“Opportunity…?”

 _“Occupational_ opportunity. Apparently it’s easier to get into a symphony in Oregon than in New York.”

“Flexibility, huh? If only you knew a really stellar, generous guy who owned a jet. Oh, wait!” He extended his hands out to the sides and mouthed “you do” as they neared the conference table and snippets of conversation began to drift over to them.

“...of Asgard…my brother.”

“…eighty people in two days.”

“He’s adopted.”

“I think it’s about the mechanics. Iridium. What do they need the iridium for?”

“It’s a stabilizing agent,” Tony announced to the room. “So I’m just saying,” he murmured to Coulson, “pick a weekend, I’ll _fly_ you to Portland. Keep love alive.” It was hard to get a read on Phil, but he looked as if he might be giving the idea some actual consideration.

“It means the portal won’t collapse on itself like it did at SHIELD,” he continued, striding forward across the bridge. All eyes were on him now. He passed by Thor on the way to the bridge’s main console. “No hard feelings, Point Break,” he assured the Asgardian, patting his over-sculpted arm. “You’ve got a mean swing.” Thor didn’t look amused. It would take some patching up to get the big guy to like him back.

“Also, it means the portal can open as wide, and stay open as long, as Loki wants.” A few of the flight crew had noticed him and looked up from their own consoles. “Uh, raise the mizzenmast,” he mock-ordered. “Jib the topsails.” They gave him perturbed looks and went back to their work. SHIELD through and through. Except for one monitor over in the corner – just out of Fury’s natural sightlines. “That man is playing Galaga,” Tony reported, pointing. The guilty crew member flushed and immediately switched tabs to more official-looking business. “He thought we wouldn’t notice. But we did.” He brought his hand up to cover his left eye, and sure enough, the offending gamer vanished. So did half the monitors in front of him. “How does Fury even see these?”

“He turns,” was Agent Hill’s dry-as-dust reply.

“Sounds exhausting.” One of the monitors at the command console had the familiar reports on Dr. Selvig and SHIELD’s prior knowledge of portal tech already pulled up. He zoomed in on the logistics for the original machinery that had been set up at NASA when Loki made his appearance. “The only major component he still needs is a power source of high-energy density,” he explained, turning around to face the rest of the team. “Something to –“ he clapped “ – kick-start the cube.”

“When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?” Agent Hill wanted to know.

“Last night,” Tony replied. “The packet, Selvig’s notes, the extraction theory papers,” he added in response to her challenging look. “Am I the only one who did the reading?”

“Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?” Rogers asked from his seat at the table, eager to keep the conversation moving.

“He’d have to heat the cube to one hundred twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.”

This from the man in the back of the room who could only be Dr. Bruce Banner. Even if Tony hadn’t recognized him from his SHIELD file, he’d have been given away by the fact that he looked as if he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in the better part of a decade.

Tony gestured his approval to the team – _now this is what I’m talking about, people._ “Unless Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect,” he pointed out, making his way across the room.

“Well, if he could do that, he could achieve heavy-ion fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

“Finally,” Tony said to the room at large, indicating Dr. Banner. “Someone who speaks English.”

“Is that what just happened?” Rogers muttered.

Tony shook the physicist’s hand, waging inner war as the part of him that was still eight years old and building junk in his bedroom had a minor heart attack.

_Ohmygodohmygod it’s HIM it’s DR. BANNER._

_Calm the fuck down, kid._

“It’s good to meet you, Dr. Banner,” he said calmly, trying to keep his fanboying to a socially appropriate level. “Your work on antielectron collisions is unparalleled.”

But the kid won out in the end after all, because he couldn’t resist adding, “And I’m a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster.”

From the look on Dr. Banner’s face, this was the first time he’d had to figure out how to react to that sentiment, and he finally settled on a muted, insincere “Thanks.”

“Dr. Banner is only here to track the cube. I was hoping you might join him.”

 _Christ._ Fury was sneaky like a fucking cat.

“I would start with that stick of his,” Rogers suggested, referring to Loki’s spear. “It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon.” Tony flinched at the use of the “M” word, but Rogers had a good point there.

“I don’t know about that,” Fury responded, “but it is powered by the cube. And I’d like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys.”

“Monkeys?” Thor puzzled. “I do not understand.”

“I do,” Rogers jumped in, positively giddy. There was a moment of profound silence. “I-I understood that reference,” he added defensively.

Good lord, ninety-five one moment and five the next. Tony extended an arm to Banner, indicating the exit.

“Shall we play, doctor?”

“This way, sir.”

Banner headed down the corridor opposite from the one leading to the residential block, and Tony followed.

It was impossible to imagine the Hulk coming out of this guy. His bearing, his voice, the way he moved – he was a zen master. And he was _tiny_. Or maybe he just seemed small after hanging out with Cap and Thor for the past five hours.

“So, uh, you were on the team that brought Loki in?” Banner asked.

“That’s right.”

“He didn’t give you too much trouble, I hope.”

“Didn’t give us nearly enough. That’s what worries me. Did I miss anything important while Fury was interrogating?”

Banner made a sound that was almost a laugh but not quite. “Nah. Lots of threatening. Not much substance.”

“So.” Tony cleared his throat. “You’re a lot more chill than I imagined.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I just figured you’d be, I don’t know – more intense? You know, high energy. Spazzier.”

Dr. Banner pursed his lips. “Well, if I were, uh, spazzier, as you put it, it would be inconvenient for a lot of people. Myself included.”

They turned a corner and Tony found himself in the lab – not huge, but homey. Enough instruments to do some major damage. He also couldn’t help but notice that the walls were almost all open-exposure, solid glass overlooking the docking bay on one side and a service area on the other. “Yeah,” the doctor said, noticing the trail of his eyes. “They keep a close eye on you when you’re working in here.”

“No cyberloafing?”

“Hm, definitely not.”

On a long table in the back, in elegant contrast with the generic sterility of the rest of the room, was Loki’s spear. Tony could understand why it was so easy to be lured in to a superstitious mindset when it came to Asgard, could even begin to comprehend why its denizens had been seen as gods. The spear was exquisite, and it fairly hummed with energy. Tony was torn between the desire to squeeze out every secret it had, or to bury it. Deep.

“One thing you can’t deny about Asgard,” Banner mused. “They’ve got the aesthetics nailed.”

“This is powered by the Tesseract?”

“Director Fury thinks so. He was there when Loki arrived through the initial portal. Said he used the spear to shoot some kind of energy pulse. He was able to take down a copter with it in one hit, apparently.”

Tony gave a low whistle. “Energy-based weapons at least I can handle. But mind control? I got nothing. At least not yet. What have you been able to do so far?”

Banner directed him over to a clear monitor, suspended conveniently so it was at standing-eye level. “I asked Fury to put the word out to as many labs as possible, have them take spectrometer readings for gamma radiation. The crew is on it and they’re sending all the data back here. They’ve been able to get more readings in since we got the facial match on Loki, although we still have people looking for Dr. Selvig and Agent Barton.” He pulled up a world map, shaded blue in certain areas, particularly in the U.S. “This is what we’ve managed – ruling out areas with no spikes in the spectrometer readings. It’s not the most efficient way to find something lost, checking off the places we know it isn’t, but it’s a start.”

Tony swiped to zoom in on the East Coast and Europe. “Loki’s a wild card; he has the power to project copies of himself. But to interact with the physical world, he needs to be physically present. That’s why he had to show up to Stuttgart in person. I’d guess the cube would have to be hovering somewhere around the Atlantic, just from a timing standpoint.”

“That would make sense.” Banner tapped his right hand against his lips, deep in thought. “If only there was a way to run a trace on the specific radiation signature of the Tesseract, to actively search for it instead of just narrowing down the field…”

“Like, if only we had a sample of a material that was similar to the Tesseract, or controlled by it?”

Banner looked towards Loki’s spear. “My thoughts exactly. So my next instinct would be to run a scan on the spear, see what kind of radiation it gives off. You think?”

“Hey, you’re the expert in radiation. Whatever you think will work, I say go with it.”

“Well, Fury seemed to think you’d want to help, so – “

“I do. But you’re the boss.”

“Wow. That’s pretty flattering, I must say, coming from you.”

“Ok, I know everyone’s probably been spouting off to you that I’m self-absorbed. And they’re not wrong. But all the same – “

Banner held up his hands in protest. “I didn’t mean that. I mean – I didn’t say so earlier, but I’ve always found your work incredibly impressive as well.” He smirked. “Better known and better funded, too. I’ve followed it with the rest of the world. Just, you know. I understood the implications better than most.”

“Dr. Banner, are you a _fan?_ ”

“Well, not that the suits aren’t cool, but I wouldn’t say ‘fan’ in the, uh, typical sense. But I’m very excited about your work where physics is concerned, especially looking at what you’ve done with energy.”

“Science fan? Oh man, best kind!”

“Yeah?”

“They’re the only ones who can understand what I’m talking about. Consistently. Do you know what a rarity that is? Of course you do, who do I think I’m talking to?”

“Well, if you don’t give me a chance to pick your brain on arc tech before we both manage to get off this boat, I’m going to be very disappointed.”

“Far be it from me to disappoint. What can I do here, now, though? Like, you’re the gamma master, but if you need a program written I guarantee I can get it done fast without sacrificing quality.”

“Oh, well yeah, I’ll definitely take you up on that. Once I get a reading on Loki’s spear, see how useful that is, we can start laying some groundwork right away if you’re up for that.”

“I was born up for that.”

“You, um, you want to get changed first?”

“Hm? What?”

Dr. Banner tapped his hands together, a little embarrassed. “Well, you don’t seem comfortable in that if you lose too much more I’ll have to have an agent in here to arrest you for indecent exposure.”

Tony looked down to realize he’d abandoned his blazer on a chair, worked his tie off and thrown it over the counter, and unbuttoned his shirt so far down that the rim of the arc reactor was clearly visible. “Oh. Jeez. Sorry, I do that sometimes. Subconsciously. Suits are not lab clothes.”

“Indeed not.”

“I just really hate tight collars.”

“Hm. You and me both.”

“Be right back. Get that scan going.” He grabbed his blazer and tie and headed out the door. “Don’t discover anything too interesting without me,” he called back.

“…right.”

Tony retraced his footsteps from the walks he’d taken with Banner and Coulson and found his way back to his room. Hey, as long as he was here anyway it was past due to make the place more homelike. He unloaded four small black cubes from the front pocket of his backpack, looked the room over, and put two in the corners nearest the hall door, one on the bedside table, and one just on the outside corner of the door leading to the bathroom. He pulled one final black box out, popped two prongs out of the back of it, and plugged it in to the outlet behind the bed that was otherwise occupied with only the cord for the lamp.

“Jarvis, we online?”

“All systems fully operational, sir.”

“Give me schematics on Mark VIII.”

The room was suddenly filled with holographic light – blueprints, models, and part listings in a rainbow of color and data.

 _Ah._ Now that was better.

“It’s a little dim. Can we automatically kill the lights when any holos are up?”

“Certainly.” The lamp switched off and the holo graphics glowed brighter in the contrast. Tony, halfway out of the rest of the suit, adjusted the cube by the bathroom half an inch.

“Beautiful. I feel less homesick already.” He pulled jeans and a t-shirt out of the backpack, dug a little deeper, and found a packet of dried blueberries. Yeah, about that time. You couldn’t count on SHIELD to remember that humans needed to do things like eat.

“Sir, I can also access your personal computer from anywhere onboard.”

“Good. Great,” Tony confirmed, pulling on clothes. “We’re gonna need you, buddy.”

“You may also be interested to know that security on the aircraft’s servers is exceptionally shoddy.”

“Stowing that away for later.” He reached into the padded back pocket of the pack and retrieved the computer Jarvis had referenced, all flatscreen and smooth angles. “I’m going back to work. Hold down the fort for me.”

He found Dr. Banner in the lab running a handheld spectrometer over Loki’s spear. He looked up and nodded to Tony.

“Black Sabbath. Very nice.”

“Why thank you. How’s it look?”

“The gamma readings are definitely consistent with Selvig’s reports of the Tesseract. But it’s going to take weeks to process.”

“Weeks? Yeesh. Can we shave that down to, say, _a_ week? Loki’s not gonna give us that much time.”

“It depends on how quickly we can get a program running, and then we have to wait until it actually tracks down the damn thing.”

“Well then,” Tony said, hooking his own tech up, “you’re lucky you have me.”

“Heh. All I packed was a toothbrush.”

“You know, you should come by Stark Tower some time,” Tony remarked as he wound his way over to Dr. Banner. On a sudden evil, mad inspiration he picked up a tool on his way, designed to emit a low-level electrical pulse into samples in order to affect their charge. “Top ten floors, all R&D. You’d love it. It’s Candyland.”

“Thanks, but the last time I was in New York I kind of…broke…Harlem.”

“Well, I promise a stress-free environment,” Tony lied. “No tension, no surprises…” Walking past Dr. Banner, who was still intent on the spear, he jabbed him between the ribs with the charger.

“Ow!” Banner yelped indignantly, turning on Tony with amused betrayal, only to find the other man up in his face.

“Hey!” Rogers yelled from the hallway.

“Nothing?” Tony said, peering into Banner’s features. Not so much as a flicker.  But Dr. Banner was _smiling._ Genuinely smiling, as if getting dangerously prodded was the most fun he’d had all day.

“Are you nuts?” Rogers shouted, entering the lab. _Busted._

“Jury’s out.” Tony turned back to Banner, who looked like he was trying to suppress laughter. “You really have got a lid on it, haven’t you? What’s your secret? Mellow jazz, bongo drums, huge bag of weed?”

“Is everything a joke to you?” Rogers asked, frustrated.

Tony gestured at him with the charger. “ _Funny_ things are.”

“Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn’t funny.” Rogers turned to Banner. “No offense, Doc.”

“It-it’s all right,” Banner assured him, tinkering with the spectrometer. “I wouldn’t have come aboard if I couldn’t handle pointy things.”

“You’re tip-toeing, big man,” Tony told him, moving across the lab and pulling the packet of blueberries out of the pocket of his jeans. “You need to strut.”

“And you need to focus on the problem, Mr. Stark,” said Rogers.

“Do you think I’m not?” Tony left Banner with the spear and walked up to Rogers. “Why did Fury call us in? Why now? Why not before? What isn’t he telling us? I can’t do the equation unless I have all the variables.”

“You think Fury’s hiding something.”

“He’s a spy. Captain, he’s _the_ spy. His secrets have secrets.” He popped a few blueberries into his mouth and talked through them. “It’s bugging him too,” indicating Banner, “isn’t it?”

“Uh…” Banner waved his hands, pushing himself away from the suggestion. “I just want to finish my work here, and…”

“Doctor?” Rogers eyed him up sternly.

Banner took off his glasses and looked straight ahead at Rogers. “’A warm light for all mankind.’ Loki’s jab at Fury about the cube.”

“I heard it,” Rogers said.

“Well, I think that was meant for you,” Banner continued, pointing to Tony, who extended the bag of blueberries to him. Banner took a few and continued. “Even if Barton didn’t tell Loki about the tower, it was still all over the news.”

“The Stark Tower? That big, ugly – “ Tony shot Rogers a Look. “ – building in New York?”

“It’s powered by an arc reactor, a self-sustaining energy source,” Banner explained. “That building will run itself for, what, a year?”

“It’s just the prototype,” Tony confirmed. “I’m kind of the only name in clean energy right now. That’s what he’s getting at.”

“So, why didn’t SHIELD bring him in on the Tesseract project?” Banner pointed out. “Wh-what are they doing in the energy business in the first place?”

“I should probably look into that,” Tony mused. “Maybe run a decryption program on all of SHIELD’s secure files.”

Rogers balked at him. “I’m sorry, did you say – “

“You gonna tell on me, Cap?”

“You could do that?”

“Easily. Blueberry?” He extended the bag to Rogers, who ignored it and looked him hard in the eye.

“Yet you’re confused about why SHIELD didn’t want you around until now.”

“An intelligence organization that fears intelligence? Historically, not awesome.”

“I think Loki’s trying to wind us up,” Rogers speculated. “This is a man who means to start a war, and if we don’t stay focused, he’ll succeed. We have orders. We should follow them.”

“Following’s not really my style,” Tony said, popping another handful of berries.

“And you’re all about style, aren’t you?”

“Of the people in this room,” Tony retorted, “which one is a) wearing a spangly outfit, and b) not of use?”

“Steve,” Banner said gently. “Tell me none of this smells a little funky to you?”

Rogers looked pensive for a moment, but shook it off. “Just find the cube,” he said, marching out of the lab. Tony watched his exit, shaking his head.

“That’s the guy my dad never shut up about? I’m wondering if they shouldn’t have kept him on ice.”

“Huh.” Banner went back to the monitor displaying the data from the spectrometer sweep. “The guy’s not wrong about Loki. He does have the jump on us.”

“What he’s got is an Acme dynamite kit,” Tony scoffed, strolling back over to his own system. “It’s going to blow up in his face. And I’m going to be there when it does.”

“Yep. I’ll read all about it.”

“Uh-huh.” He decided to risk throwing Banner a line. “Or you’ll be suiting up with the rest of us.”

Banner made the sound, mostly exhalation, that in him substituted for laughter. “Nah, you see, I don’t get a suit of armor. I’m exposed. Like a nerve. It’s a nightmare.”

Tony’s first instinct was to say _You know, I could build you a suit,_ but looking at Banner, it didn’t seem appropriate somehow. This was the most words he’d said about his, well, condition since they’d met. Tony already felt as if he’d seen something private, something he wasn’t supposed to see that had slipped out accidentally while Banner’s mind was in two places at once.

“You know,” he said instead, treading carefully, “I’ve got a cluster of shrapnel trying every second to crawl its way into my heart. This – “ he tapped the reactor on his chest “ – stops it. This little circle of light, it’s part of me now.” He walked over to Banner’s monitor, looking at him from the other side of the screen. “Not just armor. It’s a – terrible privilege.”

“But you can control it.”

“Because I learned how.”

“It’s different.”

“Hey.” Tony swiped his hand across the screen, moving all the data to the side so he could see Banner more clearly. “I read all about your accident. That much gamma exposure shoulda killed you.”

“So you’re saying that the Hulk – “ Banner shut his eyes, looking away, realizing his mistake. “…the Other Guy saved my life?” He looked back to Tony, face blank. “That’s nice. ‘S a nice sentiment. Saved it for – what?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Tony said simply. He moved back to his work station, struck with a sudden realization – his protective instincts were kicking in with this guy.

Tony sorted new acquaintances into two groups: annoying, or likeable. Annoying people were to be avoided if at all possible, shut down if necessary. Folks in the other category were to be protected, because nine times out of ten they were not equipped to deal with the horrors the world was more than happy to keep throwing at them. Dr. Banner, with his intelligence, with that gentleness that was almost physically painful to observe, was the only person on the helicarrier so far to firmly situate himself into category B.

_I like you._

_I like you and I want you to be ok._

And there were so many levels on which Dr. Banner was obviously not ok. He had no idea how many layers there were to peel back there. He could probably spend a lifetime trying.

“You may not enjoy that,” Banner said from behind him, and Tony had to remind himself that he was responding based on their earlier conversation, not his current thought train.

“And you just might,” he replied, smiling to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue lifted from the original Avengers script, 2012, Joss Whedon, is as follows:
> 
> -"of Asgard...my brother." through "This way, sir."
> 
> -"The gamma readings..." through "And you just might." With a few small timing-related changes.


	3. Communicated

They had the program to sweep for the cube’s signature up by two a.m. helicarrier time. At that point Agent Romanoff stuck her head through the lab door.

“You’re allowed to sleep, you know. Fury hasn’t outlawed it.”

“You’re still up,” Tony pointed out. “Shit needed to get done. Speaking of which, we’ll now get notified instantly if the aircraft’s spectrometers pick up on the cube.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Good work. Now what?”

“Dr. Banner?”

“We could send this program out to the labs,” Banner suggested, eying Romanoff warily while he stayed firmly put by his monitor. “Ask if they’d be willing to run the same trace off and on.”

“If they’re potentially saving the world from destruction, it’s the least they could do,” Tony pointed out.

“We’ll need to start making calls – “

“Yeah, we can go down the same list –“

“It’s the middle of the night from London to Denver,” Romanoff insisted. “Most labs aren’t awake right now. You don’t need to be, either. You’ve done your civic duty for the day.”

Once Tony allowed himself out of his programming headspace he realized he was exhausted. Justifiably. It had been a hell of a day.

“Breakfast in the cafeteria starting at seven,” Romanoff said before departing.

“Sleep…probably is a good idea,” Banner admitted with an enormous yawn. “I’ve lost track of how many time zones I’ve been in during the last twenty-four hours.”

Tony gathered up his computer. “Sleep. Rest. If we have incredible luck and get a read before sunrise, Jarvis’ll let me know.”

“Awesome. Goodnight, Stark.”

“See you in the morning?”

“Bright and early.” Banner gave him a half-wave as he headed out the door. “Bring a phone.”

~*~

Bright and early came all too soon, but the cafeteria was a real thing, and the eggs were also real, not powdered. So there was that.

Also, coffee. Free coffee. As much free coffee as a human body could possibly handle.

He would’ve happily sat next to Banner, but the physicist was missing. Tony took a look around and quickly spotted Thor because, well, he was hard to miss. The Asgardian seemed cheerful enough, shoving food in his face, so he made a beeline.

“’Morning, Flash,” he greeted him, pulling up a chair to sit next to him.

Thor made a guttural, animalistic sound in response and glared at him.

“Wait – did you just _growl_ at me?”

“What do you want with me, Stark?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, nothing. I just came to chat.”

Thor chewed in stony silence and continued to glare. Tony sighed.

“Look. I get it, ok? This reaction is not without its justifications.”

Chew. Glare. Silence.

“Ok, ok. I’m sorry, all right? I got caught up in the adrenaline. I shouldn’t have threatened you –“

Thor snorted. “You imagine yourself to be a threat?”

Tony bit back a snappy answer, reminding himself that he was talking to the guy who had picked him and thrown him not twenty-four hours prior.

“You are dealing with matters you cannot possibly understand,” Thor continued. “Powers far beyond your Midgard technology. How highly do you think of yourself, that you deem yourself worthy to interfere so readily in our affairs?”

Tony shrugged. “ _Prrrretty_ highly, considering the stake I have in this world’s fate. From, y’know, living here.”

“If a portal is opened, Stark, if Loki succeeds…you cannot possibly protect this world from what is coming.” Thor’s tone was still angry, but his voice softened a bit.

“Maybe not, but I’m going to bust my ass trying. Look, Thor, I shouldn’t have been so aggressive. I would argue that you shouldn’t have come into our jet and stolen our best lead to getting this thing fixed, but I get it, it’s your jurisdiction. Hell, it’s your family.”

“It’s more than that,” Thor said quietly. “It’s my responsibility.”

They both lost themselves in long sips of coffee.

“If I had not been exiled…if I had not come to this planet…” Thor shook his head. “Then Loki would not be here now.”

“Well…that may be true.” Tony drained his cup. “But that doesn’t mean you have to deal with everything by yourself. That’s an awful lot of pressure for one man. God. Whatever.”

“You would fight together?”

“If we need to – and we probably will, before all of this is over – yes, I would. We’re on the same side. I’m sorry for being a douche, all right?”

He watched Thor’s face and then added, gently, “…I have people I need to protect, too.”

They both ate in silence for a few moments, and Thor turned to him, bristles lowered.

“What does this mean, to have been a ‘douche?’”

“Um – sloppy, messy, questionably necessary?”

Thor smirked at that, nodded through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Yet you incapacitated Loki, without the assistance of an Asgardian. Even when Rogers could not.”

“I carry the artillery. It’s what I do.”

Thor swallowed, shot him a sparkly grin. “You are not unnecessary.”

“Aw. Thanks.”

The two of them ate, not talking, but contented.

“So, uh, we cool?” Tony asked as he got up.

“We are cool, Anthony.”

“Ugh. Please call me Tony.”

“Tony, then,” Thor agreed, with another million-dollar smile.

~*~

He headed towards the lab in a considerably better mood than when he’d woken, chemically awake if nothing else. Dr. Banner was already in the lab, and he was – dancing? Moving in slow, fluid motions across the floor, arms sweeping, legs bent. Tony stood in the doorway and watched him, taking long drags out of an extra mug of coffee he’d snitched, cradling his computer in his other arm. Gradually it dawned on him that it wasn’t dancing he was seeing, it was martial arts.

“Early morning Kung Fu, Doctor?”

“That’s exactly right, actually,” Banner replied, calm enough that Tony realized he’d known he was there the entire time. “Yang style Tai Chi.”

“Wait, Tai Chi is Kung Fu?”

“Technically, yes.”

“Is this a part of your secret, one of your calming techniques?”

“It sure doesn’t hurt.”

Tony walked in and set his mug down before hooking his computer up to the helicarrier’s mainframe.

“So this is actually a fighting form? I thought it was just something people did in the park to let off steam.”

“Who says it can’t be both?” Banner came out of the crouch he’d been in, straightening his legs. “People do the forms like this for a lot of reasons – relaxation, discipline, balance, general fitness. But when applied to combat it’s actually pretty brutal.”

He pivoted his right foot out to the side, bringing his right hand on level with his waist and the left in line with his neck. Leaning his weight into the right foot, he brought his left leg up, knee bent, and took a deep step out. He moved forward into that opposite leg and switched the positions of his arms in one fluid motion.

“See that? There?”

“Yeah?”

“Arm break.”

“No shit!”

“Yup.” Banner stood up straight again. “Tai Chi is based around incapacitating your opponent with the smallest amount of energy possible, using their momentum against them. There are very few outright attacks in the form, but a lot of really excellent defense.”

“You’re kind of a world traveler, right? You learn this overseas?”

Dr. Banner gave a quiet laugh. “No, at the Y. In another lifetime.”

“Seems like a handy skillset.” Tony finished off his second cup. “I have a bodyguard – more of a family friend these days – and he’s taught me boxing, basic self-defense, but that’s about it. I don’t have any Eastern styles under my belt.”

“No kidding? I would’ve thought, you know, with the suit, with the missions you’ve been on – you seem like you really know what you’re doing out there.”

“Wanna know one of my dirty little secrets?” Tony gave Banner a wide grin. “The suit is always doing at least half of the work. Not only do I set flight plans, but there’s also programming to help protect me beyond my own body’s reaction time. Not that my reflexes are anything to sneeze at, but Jarvis has my back. And front. The increased strength and massive amount of firepower don’t hurt either.”

Banner sucked air through his teeth. “Not sure I want to be burdened with this information.”

“Too late now.”

“Well, I promise not to use it for evil.” He stroked his chin in a very classic-professor pose. “You know, I really only do Tai Chi for the relaxation benefits, not combat, but I could teach you if you want. I’m not an expert, but I have been doing this for over twenty years.”

“Yeah. Yeah! I’d like that. New information is good information! I should warn you, though, I’m a shitty-ass student.”

“Summon up your patience reserves, then, because you’re going to need them.”

Banner wasn’t kidding about that.

“Not so fast. The whole point of Tai Chi as a relaxation exercise is slow, fluid motion. Sure, in actual combat you’d want to add the speed, but this is different. Moving slowly will also help you get the forms correct.”

“Not too wide of a stance. You’re not doing lunges here. It’s all about balance, being hard to knock over.”

“Don’t be afraid to really move your hips into that turn. That’s your power base in Tai Chi. A punch from the waist will do a lot more damage than a punch from the arm alone.”

“Arms closer in.”

Tony gave an exasperated sigh. “This is an awfully persnickety form of laying the beatdown.”

“Well, if someone were punching you, their hands would be coming in close, not way out there.”

“Can you just show me?”

“Show you?”

“Like – go ahead and move me where I’m supposed to be, and maybe muscle memory will kick in.”

“You want me to – touch you?”

“Yeah, I’m not shy or ticklish,” Tony said, bouncing on his heels, wrists loose. “Go nuts. Pose me.”

“Oh-ok.” Banner gently put his hands on Tony’s arms, tugged them in closer to his torso, rotated his wrists so his hands were turned in a bit more instead of facing flat up and down.

“Wow, your hands are really warm.”

Banner stepped back and gave him an appraising look. “That’s much better – so don’t lose it when you start to move. Ready? Shift your weight…”

Tony kept a close eye on him, following along, careful not to drift out of the frame Banner had set him in.

“Step and shift…and…there!”

“I did it right.”

“You did it right. You got the first three forms down.”

Tony victory fist-pumped. “How many, uh, forms are there? Total?”

Dr. Banner smiled. “One hundred and three.”

“…Jesus.”

~*~

After another twenty minutes practicing with Dr. Banner, he could do a whopping six forms.

“Do you do this every morning?” he asked as they started to turn to actual work.

Banner nodded. “Every day.”

“Do you mind if I join you? I’d like to keep studying under you, if you’re ok with that.”

“Yeah, please do. It’s a nice change of pace, teaching someone else instead of just going through the forms by myself.” Data flickered under his fingers against the clear screen of the monitor. “I’m sending you the spreadsheet I have for all the labs we contacted yesterday. I’ve divided it up between a smattering of the other crew members and us, so we can call again and ask them to run our specific gamma trace for the cube. I’ll be working on sending out the details. Can you make calls to the section that’s highlighted in yellow?”

“Glad to be putting my portfolio to good use.”

Banner gave an apologetic shrug. “The most important thing right now is finding the Tesseract as fast as we can. Once we have as many spectrometers on that as possible, we can start getting friendly with that–“ pointing to the back table where Loki’s spear still ominously lurked.

“Hm, yeah, I’m ok with putting that off a bit longer,” Tony confessed, scrolling through the list of names and numbers. “This…is a _lot_ of labs. Which one of these chunks is yours?”

“I’m…not great on the phone.”

“Really? I’m surprised. You seem – sociable. A little bashful, maybe, but…”

“A lot of these labs are in the U.S., and I’m not supposed to exist there right now. Hell, I even worked for a few of them back in the day. So calling makes me…nervous.”

When Tony raised a quizzical eyebrow, Banner waved his hands dismissively. “Does it surprise you that I’m not a popular guy? Anyway, I’ll be doing the heavy lifting. Once a lab has ok’d with us, check off next to their info on the spreadsheet - I’ve got it set to update automatically on my end any time you or another crew member does that. I’ll be sending out the specs each lab needs to do the trace. And if you don’t mind, I’ll be doing it from your SHIELD account.”

“Don’t want anything going out with your name on it?”

“Exactly.”

“Fine by me.” He walked over to Banner’s monitor and entered his login info. “Today, I think you’ll find that you’re _very_ popular.”

“Life on the other side, huh? Thanks.”

“Couldn’t we just get this done with a mass e-mail?”

“We could, but with phone calls there’s a better guarantee for a speedy response. Fury gave me enough manpower that we should be able to get this done today.”

“Do you really need me?”

“Depends. Do you want to feel useful?”

“Very.”

“Having one more person helping with this means it gets done that much faster.”

“Ok, here goes nothing.” He dialed the first number on the list, which just happened to be good old MIT. Hail to thee, fair alma mater. “What’s our cover?”

“An important piece of technology was stolen from a SHIELD team doing clean energy research by a corporation with a vested interest in big oil, and we’re trying to track it down.”

“…and I just threw up in my mouth. Seriously?”

“I know, it’s gross, it wasn’t my idea. But it does keep the panic to a minimum…”

“Yeah, yeah, no reason to tell everyone the fate of the world could be at stake…but…blegh.” He made the call. There were two rings and then a click as someone picked up.

“MIT Spectroscopy?” answered a chirpy voice of indeterminate sex.

“Hi, this is Tony Stark, calling on behalf of SHIELD –“

“Ha ha, right, pull the other one, pal.”

“…no, I’m serious. I’m calling from – “ He muffled the phone against his chest. “Shit, doctor, SHIELD acronym, what’s the full thing stand for again?”

Banner gave him a look of intense frustration but mouthed word by word as he kept talking into the phone. “..the Strategic Homeland…Intervention, Enforcement…and Logistics Division. Government business, so please don’t screw around with me, ok?”

“Wait, wait, is this the energy thing? The, uh, power source theft or whatever?”

“Exactly. Yes. Extremely important –“

“Oh my God, wait, so you actually are Tony Stark?”

“Yes –“

“Oh my God. OhmyGodohmy _God._ ”

Tony rolled his eyes as Dr. Banner snickered in the background. “Yeah, uh-huh, it’s all very exciting, can I talk to your director please?”

“No. Nonono, it’s fine, I’m sorry, I can help you. This is just going to make an _awesome_ story, y’know? …oh my God. Ok. I’m listening.”

“So you know the score with SHIELD? You got a call yesterday asking to calibrate your spectrometer for gamma, right?”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. I heard about that.”

“We’ve got a better idea of the specific specs we’re looking for now, so in just a few minutes my lab is going to be sending your lab the information you need to look for a specific radiation signature. It’ll come in my name, ok? If you could tell whoever’s going to see this communication first to check as often as possible for that signature, let us know immediately if you get any hits. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“What do you need to do? Repeat it back to me.”

“Have the director check for e-mail from you, read up on the specs, run as many scans as possible for your specific signature. We still have the spectrometer on the roof, I think we can keep checking until we hunt this bad boy down.”

“That’s music to my ears, thank you.” He checked the MIT contact off the list, could see Banner was already putting the communication together on his screen. “You’ve been very helpful –“

“Just one thing I want to ask you, Mr. Stark…is this superhero stuff?”

“What?”

“This whole energy story, is that _really_ –“

“Clean energy makes heroes of us all, kid. Thanks for your help, pressed for time, take care, bye.” He hung up and looked over to Banner, whose eyes were dancing with amusement.

“Ok, so I think we can both agree that was a _spectacularly_ bad idea,” Tony said.

“For sure,” Banner said. “Specs just got sent over though.”

“I need to restrategize.” He leaned back against the counter and tapped his hand to his lips, musing. “Using an alias and then throwing SHIELD’s name around is _probably_ eight different kinds of illegal, but…oh well?”

“I seriously doubt you’d be the first. It’s just the price you pay for notoriety.”

“The worse thing about being famous is when it makes you inefficient. If I had an actual superpower? I would want to be a shapeshifter. There’s never a time I don’t want to _be_ Tony Stark, but there are a lot of times it would come in handy not to sound or _look_ like Tony Stark.”

“Having tried the whole shapeshifting thing firsthand, I gotta say it’s overrated.”

“Oh…shit. Doctor, I’m sorry I didn’t mean –“ Tony ran a hand up into his hair, pulled his head down a little. “It’s just so easy to forget that…that’s…you.”

Banner narrowed his eyes. “Easy…to forget?”

“Well, you’re Dr. Bruce Banner, you do Tai Chi and spectroscopy. I have to remind myself about – the Other Guy.”

“Huh. Never heard that one before; most people seem to have it the other way around.”

They lapsed into their first awkward silence. There just wasn’t anything Tony could think of to say to that, not that didn’t come off as brittle and forced.

“We should use an agent’s login to send out the data,” he plowed ahead lamely. “On closer examination using my name is not a great plan.”

“One of the higher-ups,” Banner agreed. “Someone whose name carries plenty of clout. Who inspires action, rather than…” He trailed off.

“Fanatical pants-wetting?”

“You said it, not me.”

“Speak of the devil,” Tony observed as he caught sight of Agent Hill coming down the hallway. He sang out to her in West Side Story tones. “Ma- _ri_ -aaaaaa…”

“You know I hate it when you do that, Stark.”

“Come in here for a second, we need your login.”

“Please,” added Banner.

She stopped in the doorway, arms crossed. “What.”

“It’s for a good cause, Agent Hill,” Tony assured her. “We need to send some specs out to a batch of labs so they can help us hunt down the Tesseract, realized neither of our names does much good there.”

“Fine.” She went over to the workstation and entered her info while Banner politely averted his eyes. “I’ll give you my most basic low-level clearance. Don’t even think about looking through my inbox, and know that even if you do it’s all dry cleaning memos and reminders about interns’ birthdays.”

“Roger that.”

“Know also that If this comes back to haunt me in any way, I have very few qualms about handing you both ‘chutes and opening the door for you.”

“Thank you, Agent Hill,” Banner said graciously.

“Yeah, thanks a bundle.”

“Mm-hm,” she replied tightly, already on her way back out.

“Well.” Tony punched in the next phone number on the list. “Time to go undercover.”

How did Phil talk? Smooth. Slow. Non-reactive. He dialed.

“This is Agent Carl Tyson.” He heard a low chuckle from Banner across the room. “I’m calling on behalf of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division…”

~*~

Tony woke the next morning feeling accomplished, but grateful that his brief stint as an administrative assistant was over.

Dr. Banner was waiting for him after breakfast, checking Agent Hill’s inbox for any reply messages from various labs. He greeted Tony with an unusually bright smile when he walked in, and it made him feel good that Banner hadn’t started without him, had purposely waited until he got there to go into the forms. He took it as proof that Banner wasn’t just humoring him by agreeing to keep acting as his amateur instructor.

They went through the first six forms together again, prep through White Crane Spreads Wings, Banner’s nods and quiet praise letting him know he’d remembered well, that what he’d learned yesterday had stuck. Then Banner moved him forward into the next set of forms – lots of brushed knees, twist steps, lute playing, repetitive motions that were easy to keep track of.

“This really does feel _good_ ,” Tony commented, sinking into the fourth Brush Left Knee. “It’s a nice alternative to using the gym up here. I haven’t dared set foot in there – afraid I might run into Thor and Cap benching each other.”

Banner cracked another warm smile. “No kidding, talk about intimidating physiques.”

“I think Rogers might actually sleep in there. I haven’t seen him anywhere else since I got on board.”

“Ok, now the next form is a little bit different, but it’s not too difficult, the arm motions flow really nicely from one to the –“

A repetitive beeping sounded from the device on his wrist; Tony had taken it to be a watch but looking closer he saw it was more jerry-rigged, a homemade concoction of tech and straps and neat tape.

“Excuse me for a second.” Banner turned off the beeping and went over to his monitor, checked the screen and wrote down a few notes. Tony had noticed that while he was a tech master he liked to use paper and pen to keep track of information.

“What’s that?”

“Personal project,” Banner replied, deadpan.

“Are you using SHIELD laboratory equipment for your own nefarious purposes?”

“Something like that.”

“Why Dr. Banner, for _shame._ ”

“If SHIELD has a problem with it, they’re totally free to suck a dick. They owe me.”

The sudden shift in his tone when he mentioned SHIELD was jarring, and Tony would normally have taken it as a sign to change the subject…but…he was _really_ curious.

“You have some kind of beef with SHIELD? Well, I mean, who doesn’t, but –“

“Do I…?” Banner shook his head, not in disagreement but in surprise. “Stark, do you know how I got here?”

“I…I guess I don’t.”

He gave a short, joyless laugh, all the warmth gone from his face. “I got held at gunpoint.”

“… _what?_ ”

“…they didn’t do that when they picked you up?” he joked, voice low and dangerous.

“What-where were you?” Tony asked, realizing with paralyzing suddenness how much he still didn’t know about Dr. Banner. “What were you doing?”

“I was in Calcutta. I had a small medical practice there – people got sick, they came to me or I went to them, they gave me what they could.” He shook his head again. “All that time…I thought I was off the radar. I kept a low profile, stayed out of sight. And SHIELD knew. They fucking knew the whole time. They were just waiting until they needed me. And then they plucked me out, sent Agent Romanoff and a whole gang of heavy artillery to corner me and bring me here.”

Tony’s blood had turned to ice, pulse pounding cold behind his eyes as something deep down in his chest gave a chilling, primal snarl.

_I like you._

_I like you and I want you to be ok._

_…I will fucking kill them_.

All at once, the pieces started falling into place.

The way the lab was built, the glass, the exposure.

Fury’s voice, with just a hint of concern tainting it – _Dr. Banner is only here to track the cube._

And Loki’s prison cell, another glass monstrosity, a spacious cage that could be dropped thousands of feet to the ground with the push of a button…

Tony felt himself beginning, ever so slightly, to tremble.

Banner looked him in the eye, a smooth, quiet reflection of all that feeling, a smile breaking slowly over his face that made Tony shiver even in his own rage. “I wish I could let myself feel as angry as you look right now.”

Something about those words, about the way he looked, sank into Tony and _twisted_. He felt livid and fucked up but there was something _else,_ what was he seeing there? It was familiar, like having a tune stuck in your head you couldn’t put a name to; it should be obvious but it just wasn’t coming to him…

So familiar, beyond that anger; he’d seen it on so many people before –

The realization washed over his brain until it leaked into every firing synapse.

Lust.

 _This man wants to fuck me_.

He was shocked, but his own knee-jerk response was even more surprising – _I am so very ok with that._

_Wait, what?!_

Dr. Banner had returned to his notes by then, and Tony risked a glance at him – and it was like uncorking a bottle, foam spilling out everywhere, because he actually _saw_ him now, saw the casing that incredible mind was riding around in, and _shit_ …

Banner was _gorgeous._

How had he not noticed? Had his head been that far up his own ass, these past two days?

Of course. Of course it had.

“That tangent aside…you want to go back to Tai Chi for a while? I could use the relaxation right about now.”

Tony stuttered something he could only hope was intelligible, and he was already questioning, already doubting himself.

_Did I really see that?_

_Maybe that’s just, like, his stress face. A very special, confusing Dr. Banner stress face._

_You know perfectly well that’s not what it was._

_Maybe I’m projecting, then. Maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t there because those are my own feelings –_

_But if that’s the case, why are those my feelings?!_

It was too late, far too late, to even wonder why, because the idea had taken hold of his mind and his incessant interior dialogue like a brand new blueprint. _This_ was the focus, suddenly; this was the goal, those well-oiled gears turning before he could even give himself permission, and his brain was running hypotheses at an incredible rate, taking in the fullness of Dr. Banner’s mouth and wondering how it would feel to kiss him, to be kissed, to run his hands through the soft waves of his hair…

And then, of course, Banner was putting his hands on him, guiding him through the next few forms, and it hadn’t mattered yesterday but now it was the most exquisite kind of torture. He was incredibly grateful when they wrapped up for the day, afraid that if he’d had to keep all that pressure under the surface any longer he would have virtually exploded.

The rest of the day was a mess, their plans to start in on Loki’s spear steamrollered by a false positive in New Mexico, of all places, that sent the entire crew into an uproar. Upon closer examination, it was just residual energy from one of the places the Bifrost had touched down when Thor and his companions had come to Earth the previous year. In spite of everybody’s dashed hopes, it was still helpful in that it opened a new set of questions about what Bifrost tech and the Tesseract had in common. Thor got brought in for Q&A, and he seemed delighted to be in the lab, doing something useful.

Tony was on the ball, processors running at full speed, taking in the new information and squeezing every possible drop of relevance out of it, but he was still running that exciting but upsetting new program in the background – entirely against the will of his better nature.

_I don’t have time for this right now. There’s shit to do. This is…wildly unprofessional._

The fact that he knew that didn’t stop him from noticing something else about Banner every few seconds – the curve of his ass against the fabric of his world-worn khakis, the beginnings of soft fuzz where his shirt collar stopped and his chest began, the small smiles of gratitude for Tony’s input and companionship…

Shitshitshit _shit._

~*~

He found himself with Pepper that night, squirming naked against her lap as she brought her hand down, hard, against his ass.

“Fucking _missed_ you,” she hissed, spanking him again, even harder, and he gave a yelp of pleasure.

She fell back against the mattress, pulling him with her, and he covered her with kisses, soft nips and tastes of her mouth, her throat, her breasts. She hummed with contentment underneath him; pulled him in by the back of the head to bring their mouths together and give him her tongue as he slid his fingers between her legs, felt how beautifully wet she already was.

He was waiting for her to roll with him, pin him down and straddle him, but she just smiled up at him as she broke the kiss, planting one more wallop on his ass before lying flat and spreading her legs.

“You stay on top this time, Tony, otherwise this’ll never work.”

He had no idea what she was talking about, but then she pulled his hips toward her, reached up a hand to stroke his cock, guided him inside of her, and it didn’t seem to matter much anymore.

 _God_ she was lovely, with her cheeks all flushed, emitting breathy little gasps as he thrust gently into the warm, tight wetness of her. She traced her fingers in a hard line down his back, ending in a quick squeeze at his ass before lifting her hands to stroke his temples, run through his hair…

Then he started as another pair of hands settled heavy at his waist.

Pepper’s eyes snapped open when he froze, but she whispered to him – “Ssh, Tony, it’s all right” – held his face in her hands, rubbing her thumbs across his cheekbones. He knew what he would see without turning to look, but he tilted his head just a little, caught curls and stubble and deep brown eyes in his peripheral.

Oh no _oh yes_ ohhhhh no

Dr. Banner leaned over him, brushed his lips against him and burned his ear with his breath, speaking so quiet in that level, gentle voice.

“I know how much you want this, Stark. _Relax_.”

And _fuck_ , heaven help him, he _did_ , just let himself melt into the caresses of those two pairs of hands.

Pepper danced her fingers down his neck to cup his chest, squeezing and stroking at his nipples, while Banner pressed his own fingers tighter against his waist as he nuzzled Tony’s neck and applied just the slightest nip of teeth against his skin. Pepper let out a long, high moan as he started thrusting faster, feeling Banner’s tongue tracing lines on his neck, his teeth nibbling patterns against his back.

Banner’s hand roamed down from his waist to his ass, his fingers suddenly warm and wet as they explored, and as he gasped at the touch Pepper clenched against him, her muscles taut. He looked down into her face and she was just _grinning_ , breathing hard, wild with the joy of it, and as he was drinking in that smile Banner slid his fingers inside of him, and he felt himself _groaning…_

He woke up with his cock already in his hand.

 _Just think about Pepper_ , he told himself as he began to take his own cock in short, hard strokes. _Focus on Pepper_ …

Which, to be fair, was not difficult – there was so much good to focus _on_ …but Banner was still there in his subconscious, the emotional and physical heat of his dreams still trying to work their way into his waking mind.

_No, please…that’s-that’s just so creepy. Come on._

But even while trying to keep up that mental resistance he was _really_ close, had already been close when he woke, and as he came into his fist Banner flooded his mind, face flushed, mouth open, eyes wild...

Tony lay still, small aftershocks twitching in his hips, feeling satisfied but disgusting.

He stood up and walked to the bathroom, cleaned himself up, then sat back down on the bed with his head in his hands, weighing options. Emotional neediness won over the lateness of the hour, and he picked up his phone and dialed.

Four rings, then the pickup and her voice, slurred with sleep – “Tony, do you have any idea what time of night it is?”

“Uh – no? I didn’t check.”

Pepper made a soft sound of suffering. “Is everything all right? Well, no, obviously – Tony, you better not be dying,” she said, suddenly alert, only half joking. “I mean, you don’t _sound_ like you’re dying but-“

“No. No immediate physical danger.”

“That makes a nice change. …it is really good to hear your voice. Even if it would’ve sounded even better about – four hours ago.”

“Sorry. Yeah. It’s-it’s good to hear your voice, too.”

“So, how’s SHIELD?”

“Horrible. Nosy. Morally grey. The usual. How’s DC?”

“Things are going slow. There’s a big stink about having so many buildings entirely off the grid. I’ll wear them down, though.”

“I know you will.”

“I have another meeting in a couple of days, but in the meantime I’m going to take in the sights. You know I’ve never been to the Smithsonian? Always wanted to go. Tony, I –“ She went quiet, and he gave her time to collect her thoughts. “I want to ask how things are going, but…I also don’t want _too_ much information. Like, if the entire world is going to explode if something doesn’t get done properly, I’d just as soon not know. Unless the world is actually in the _process_ of exploding – then you are entirely welcome to call me and tell me how I was the best thing going for you in your life.”

Tony grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind. Uh – again with the lack of immediate danger. We’re missing an important piece of tech, but we have the Asgardian responsible in custody, and a solid system in place to find what’s missing. I think things are gonna be ok.”

“Whew.”

“I mean, there’s about a thirty percent chance that a portal will open and an alien –“

“Ahhhhaha, nope, stop right there, ignorance is bliss. So. About why you called.”

“Hm? Oh…”

“I assume there’s something you wanted to talk about beyond catching up. That there’s a reason you couldn’t do this _before_ three a.m. Eastern.”

“Right.” He took a deep breath. “So you know when we agreed to go poly, the idea was that we’d talk any potential partners over with each other first. Like you did with that lovely friend of yours from school – what was her name again?”

“Hah hah.”

“Well, I’m having _really_ intense feelings for another member of the Initiative. Like, intense, stupid, horny teenager emotions. And chances are very high that it’s going absolutely nowhere, ever, but I wanted to talk to you about it anyway – hell, just to _talk_ to someone.”

“Oooh. Is it Thor? …kind of hope it’s Thor.”

“Sorry, no dice.”

“Damn. Well, a girl can dream.”

“Oh, and the justification is there. For the dreaming. I get it. But honestly, you think _I’m_ unstable relationship material? You should read the guy’s file. Or meet his brother.”

“Hm, pass. Ok, so not Cap, I don’t ever see that working for _myriad_ reasons.”

“Oh, so true. I love how you automatically assume it’s not a woman, by the way.”

“Well, is it a woman?”

“…no.”

“See? You were just working your way up to perfection there, and now that you have it at your fingertips, what’s the point in looking further?”

“I think my egoism is rubbing off on you. …I _like_ it.”

“Coming up empty here, though, so just tell me, who is it?”

“It’s, um. It’s Dr. Banner.”

There was a prolonged silence.

“Pepper, are you still –“

“Tony, are you _fucking. Serious.”_

“Yes?”

“What the hell is _wrong_ with you?”

“Uh – specifically?”

“It’s like, no matter how many options you have in front of you, you just say to yourself, ‘hm, which of these is the most inherently dangerous? ‘Cause I’ll pick that’!”

“That’s not –“

“ _Every time,_ Tony. _Every. Goddamn. Time._ ”

“I, uh. I picked you.”

There was another long silence, and then he heard her let out an exasperated exhale into the phone.

“You’re just lucky that every now and then you say exactly the right thing. All right, I’m listening. Listening, and not picking apart your thrill complex – you’re welcome – so this better be convincing.”

“It’s not – I’m not attracted to him because he’s dangerous.” Even as the words left his mouth a niggling doubt tickled against his brain.

_Aren’t you, though?_

“I mean, fair is fair, it doesn’t make him _less_ appealing, but…” He tried to think how to explain, as much to himself as to Pepper. “He’s a _genius_ , and he barely knows it. And he has so many reasons not to trust people but he let me in, I don’t know why but he did, and now that I’m there – I – I don’t ever want to leave. Working with this guy, it’s – it’s such a genuine pleasure, and we haven’t even really gotten our hands dirty yet…you know me, I’m not a team player, but Banner makes me _want_ to be, it’s – it’s an honor, working with him. It’s a privilege. And…”

“Smoking hot?”

“Oh my God, Pepper, so stupidly hot. And –“ His voice hitched, ever so slightly, as words kept spilling out that he hadn’t even realized were inside of him. “He smiles like he’s out of practice. And when he smiles at me, I feel – like I’ve done something inestimably valuable. Something really important. Something _good_ …”

“Wow,” Pepper said softly. “You sound like a man in some pretty deep smit.”

Tony gave a pained laugh. “Very deep. And the worst part is? I wouldn’t even be allowing myself to think this way, but – I have this sense that I’m not the only interested party.”

“He’s attracted to you too?”

“Maybe?” He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Tony. Tony. You know what I’m going to say.”

“Ugh.”

“The only way you’re ever going to know for sure is if you ask. Talk to him.”

“ _Ugh…_ ”

“Oh, come on, Tony, you’re a grown-ass man. You can either stew in misery or you can communicate, you choose.”

He rubbed his hand over his face. “I know, I know. I don’t want to wreck things, though, either; we have a lot to focus on right now –“

“- and you don’t want him to feel uncomfortable around you if he doesn’t feel the same way. Sure, sure. So do your thing, focus on work, save the world, and _then_. Talk. To. Him.”

“…you’re right. Of course you’re right.” Tony let himself recline, let the tension go out of his muscles. “How are you doing, with all this? I mean, these are still pretty new waters to navigate for both of us…”

“Would I be correct in assuming that if the opportunity came up for you to jump this guy’s bones, you would do it in a heartbeat?”

He groaned. “Pepper, just hearing you _say_ it – yes. Yes, I probably would.”

“Hmm…you know, I’m ashamed of myself for this, it’s kind of gross, but…if you were interested in another woman, I think I’d be jealous. But thinking about you and another guy is just… _hot_. Like, _really_ hot.”

“Ha. So unhip of you. Very sexist. I’m kidding, I know exactly what you mean.”

“Just be safe, though, all right? And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Which leaves your options pretty open, I’d say.”

“Pepper, I haven’t even talked to him yet.”

“As soon as you talk? I want details. Juicy, intimate details. Ok?”

“Oh, and you’ll get them, as is your absolute right.”

“…and save some room for me?”

“Pepper. I just had my first sexy dream about him, and you were in it before he was.”

“ _Both_ of us?”

“Yeeees.”

“Hmmm… _life_ goals.”

“Ok, and I’m hanging up on you now before you put any more salacious ideas into my already addled head.”

“Fine, fine. Goodnight, Tony. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Talk to him.”

She hung up before he had the chance to be sarcastic.

He put the phone back on the table and lay flat with his hands behind his head, feeling unreasonably wide awake.

“I am well and truly fucked,” he said into the silence of the room.

“Chin up, sir,” Jarvis assured him.


	4. Closeted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and subscriptions! I have this completely mad idea that I'll somehow get this entire bad boy uploaded in time for the U.S. Ultron premiere, so stay tuned for frequent updates.

“What now?”

“We wait.”

“…I _hate_ waiting.”

Banner had scraped off a bit of whatever metallic compound the fitting for Loki’s spear was made out of, and the two of them were running it through every viable piece of equipment the lab had to offer. Some readings took longer than others.

“Tell you what,” Banner said, “since we need to kill some time anyway, I’m opening the floor.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Unlimited Q&A. For the next – let’s see – it’ll be about fifteen minutes. Go.”

“Uh – sorry, still not sure where this is - ?”

“Other Guy questions,” Banner explained simply. “I know you have them. Ask.”

“Oh.” Tony pondered that for a moment. “Are you sure? I mean, I can’t deny that I’m curious – but if you don’t wanna talk about it I totally understand.”

Dr. Banner took off his glasses and set them down next to the scanner that was currently analyzing the sample of scepter material. Tony couldn’t decide which version was sexier, spectacled or non – both of them were increasingly difficult to look in the eye. “The way this is going so far, it looks like we could be up here for a while. If we’re going to be working together anyway, I’d rather put it all on the table. Besides,” he added with one of his half-smiles, “even though you say you have to remind yourself about the Other Guy, there are other times when he comes up in conversation and I can practically hear your gears turning. It’s ok to be curious. So ask.”

There were a lot of things Tony _wanted_ to ask but definitely, definitely _couldn’t._

_How much do you remember, after the change? How much is still you?_

_How many people have you killed? Do you regret it?_

_Do you feel it all the time, like is it as if there’s always something there beneath your surface waiting to burst out? What **is** your secret for keeping that in check?_

_…and what exactly are the chances of you holding me down and fucking me until I can’t breathe or think? Is that on the table, is that an option we can keep open?_

Better start with something simple.

“I have to admit there is something that’s been eating away at me ever since the, uh, Other Guy first made the news.”

“Which is - ?”

“Magic pants.”

“Wait, what?”

“Where do the pants come from? Like, where the hell do you get pants that can survive that kind of treatment? It seems like it should be impossible, but then so do a lot of things that clearly aren’t.”

Dr. Banner stared blankly at him for a few seconds, and Tony wondered, _wait, was THAT a bad question? Did I hit a trigger there? –_ but then Banner started shaking, arms wrapped around his midsection, and Tony realized that he was laughing.

“ _Seriously?”_

“What? It’s a legitimate question!”

“You’re supposed to be _smart_!”

“So sue me, I don’t get it, where do they come from? How do you always just conveniently happen to be wearing them when you transform?”

“Stark,” Banner gasped, clutching at his side, “there are no magic pants.”

“Come again?”

“Seriously, you thought I just happened to be wearing pants that were high enough tech that they could accommodate the Other Guy’s physique, all the time, just in case? That makes literally _no_ sense. Where would I get them? Who could I buy from that wouldn’t rat me out to the press? How would I _afford_ them?”

“Um.”

“News sites, papers, video clips, they just do some basic editing, Photoshop work, smack a pair on there. I don’t know who the first person was to decide neon purple was a good idea, but I'd like to have some strong words with them.”

“So you’re saying - ?”

“Magic pants are a lie of the media.”

“So when you transform, you’re just – freeballing it?”

“Yep.”

“But there were SHIELD clips mixed in with the news footage on your file – “

“Anything from the waist down?”

Tony sat down hard. “Oh my God. My worldview is completely shattered. What the hell even is reality.”

Banner snickered.

“What?”

“Heh. ‘Freeballing.’ Ok, next question.”

“Well. I’m kind of afraid to go any deeper into this rabbit hole now.”

“Yeah right. Try a serious question this time.”

“That _was_ a serious question. Congratulations on making me feel like a complete moron, by the way. That’s not an easy feat.”

Banner was still shaking his head a little as Tony thought.

“Ok, I got one. Or maybe a bundle, I’m not sure. Can we talk basic physics?”

“Oh boy.”

“Yeah-huh. How does this even work? Is there some obvious genetic shortcut I’m missing, here, that makes these transformations make _any_ kind of earthly sense?”

Banner let out a long exhale. “I really, _really_ wish I had a better answer for you than the ones I’m about to give.”

Tony gave him a moment to collect his thoughts in much-needed silence, rotating back and forth in his chair while he waited.

“Ok, so we know that energy has mass. That a spring, when you stretch it out, has more mass than a spring at rest, because of the potential energy that results from the stretching. It’s a minute amount of mass, and it’s difficult to measure, but it’s there.”

Tony nodded.

“I think it’s some kind of gross exaggeration of that principle. That after the accident, my cells, all of my organic makeup, became the equivalent of a tightly coiled spring, and when the transformation happens – when the Other Guy shows up – and that spring is stretched out, the potential energy that’s created is so devastatingly huge that there’s an equivalent and easily observable increase in mass as well.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “I can almost hear the grating noises, doctor, from those straws you’re grasping at.”

“I know, I know.” Banner sighed. “And the way that – well – emotion is wrapped up in all of it, none of what we know can explain that. I’ve even considered that there might be some kind of previously untapped energy in emotions themselves – in anger, for example – and the radiation somehow triggered that in me. And then I wonder if this would’ve happened to anyone, under the right circumstances, because like you said this much exposure should’ve killed me. Or was there some kind of pre-existing criteria that was already there, that kept me alive but _this_ happened instead? …I wonder a lot of things.”

“Doctor.” Tony swallowed, hard. “If it were me…I would test the _shit_ out of this. Anything and everything, to try and understand it. I assumed that’s what you’d already done, but…you sound like you’re really still in the dark on this.”

“It’s…complicated. I’ve tried to run tests on myself, figure out what I can, but…” Banner crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know if we even have the tech, on this planet, to measure this and explain it. This is…it’s crazy, it’s nonsensical. It’s nothing that either of my doctorates prepared me for.”

Tony gave a sort of half-laugh. “No kidding, if there’s anything the past two years have taught me it’s how little we still understand about the universe we live in. I mean, look at Asgard, look at the tech we’re seeing there – we’re still in the kiddie pool. It’s exciting, but…”

“Frustrating?”

“Honestly? I was going more for ‘terrifying.’”

“…yeah. That’s a good word for it. And…that’s the other thing that holds me back.  Fear, plain and simple.  I want to learn more, but I can’t risk transforming outside of an _extremely_ controlled environment, and even then I have so little control over what he does, it’s not like I’d be able to measure anything. And even _then_ it’s…it’s not an experience I seek out. Not something I like to do on purpose.”

“Have you ever…tried it?” Tony was all too aware of the line he was dancing on. “Transforming on purpose?”

“No.”

Banner was squeezing his own arms so tightly that his knuckles had gone white.

“Do you think it would make a difference? If, so to speak…you happened to the Other Guy, instead of the Other Guy happening to you?”

“I…don’t know. I don’t have a safe way to find out.”

Tony took a deep breath. “You know – when this is over. When we find the cube – and we will – and everything is settled. I could help you. If you want.”

Banner looked straight at him, and it was the first time Tony had ever seen anything even close to hope in his face.

“I have the space,” he continued, encouraged, “and the funding. We could build observation rooms, containment, whatever you need to figure this out. I know it wouldn’t be easy, and we’d have to be careful, but we could do it.”

“Stark, you don’t have to do this.”

“But I want to.”

“Why?”

_Because I like you and you deserve some goddamn happiness and there’s really not too many things I **wouldn’t** do, at this point, if it made your eyes look like that._

“Because…I remember what it was like waking up plugged into a car battery with a huge chunk of my chest missing. I remember how freaked out I was when my own body turned into something out of my control, something I didn’t understand. And this?” He flicked the reactor with his finger, and it made a dull _ping_. “Small, small potatoes compared to what you’re dealing with.”

Banner let his arms drop back to his sides. “Yeah, the idea that you see in a lot of Eastern philosophy, that control of any kind is an illusion?  Really speaks to me for some reason. ...I think I’m going to take you up on this, Stark.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, this is a can of worms you might regret opening someday.”

“Oh, I look forward to it.”

A full smile this time – actually made it all the way from one side of his mouth to the other. “I’ll bet you do.” He scratched his nose, a little self-conscious, Tony thought. “You know, it’s not all unknown variables, though. As far as my own body goes, the changes have been a lot easier to measure and adapt to accordingly.”

Tony frowned. “How do you mean – it wasn’t just the, um…appearance of the Other Guy, after the accident?”

“Ohhh no, irradiation played merry hell with my whole system. Increased metabolism, for example. That’s a side effect.  I eat twice as much as I used to.  There's a reason I sneak into the cafeteria as soon as it's open - it's kind of embarrassing.  And my pulse is crazy fast.  Freaked out a couple of other medical doctors with it, back during early days.”

“How fast?”

“Like a normal heartbeat for me is where most people would be during some kind of intense exertion. And my exertion pulse is through the roof. You wanna feel it?”

“Uh…sure.” Tony got off his chair and went over to Banner. He held out his hand, hesitantly, and Banner guided it to the left side of his chest, over his heart. The rhythm was immediate, intense, crashing against his palm.

“Holy shit!” He pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned, and Banner chuckled at him. Slowly, Tony reached back out and touched him again. “That’s _insane,_ ” he said, cupping his hand tighter, grinning wide as the powerful beat pulsed against his fingers. He looked into Banner’s face, and the contrast was unreal – he looked so peaceful, half-smirking, breathing evenly, and then Tony made the mistake of locking eyes with him, and Banner just looked back, gentle, so aggravatingly calm and beautiful, and his own heart began racing to try and match as, horrified, he felt himself start to go hard.

“How do you _live_ like that?” he said in a rush, taking his hand away and shoving it in what he hoped was a casual way into his pocket, while a large part of his brain and body whined at him, what was he doing moving that hand, he should be touching Dr. Banner _more,_ not less, running his fingers over him, touching him _everywhere…_

“It took a long time to get used to it. Still not all the way there, to be honest.”

“How can you stay so – so freaking zen when your body’s hammering like that, all the time?”

“I don’t.” Banner shrugged. “But I can act like I’m calm. I can hold myself in certain ways, posture, tone of voice, I can project calm, and if I lie enough, if I do a good enough job, I can almost – _almost_ – convince myself that it’s the truth. And that’s enough. Most of the time.” He gestured to the lab around him. “And I keep busy. Problem solving. Keep my mind tied up with busy work. That helps a lot too.”

“Dr. Banner, I – “ Tony ran his hand through his hair, helpless. “I’ve met the whole lineup of what they call heroes up here, but you know, you’re the epitome of superhuman. You have been dealt the shittiest hand of all of us and yet look at you.”

"You do what you gotta do,” Banner said casually. “Compared to the alternative? This isn’t that bad.”

“…shit.”

“Yeah. It’s still bad enough.”

Tony fiddled with the instruments on the table in front of him, pointlessly keeping his hands busy because he had no idea what to do, what to say – just holding his face in the appropriate expression of concern seemed so inadequate.

“I’m not, Stark. You know.”

“Not what?”

“Superhuman.”

“Uh, hate to break it to you, but you’re kind of the running definition –“

Banner waved his hands weakly, denying. “No, I mean, I’m not a – a superhero.  This isn’t some cool power I can use to save the day, beat the bad guys. I can’t use it to protect anyone. It takes almost all the energy I have to protect people _from_ it.”

Tony stopped fiddling, crossed his arms. “Yeah – I’m starting to understand that. But just now? With the heroics? Wasn’t talking about the Other Guy.”

Dr. Banner just stared at him, wordless, eying him up with something like incredulity – or maybe pity.

“Look.” Tony let his arms shrug to his sides. “The way I see it, in another person’s hands, this…power, or condition, or whatever you choose to call it? It would’ve destroyed them. Would’ve created what the press likes to call a supervillain. Somebody for SHIELD to take down. Not recruit. So the fact that you’re standing here right now – I’d take that as a pretty good sign.”

Banner smiled with his mouth, if not his eyes. “Wow, I really wish I could believe things were that black and white. But it’s not that simple.”

“Maybe it is.” Tony leaned forward, palms down on the counter, squaring even with him. “You know, there’s no rule that everything has to be a multilayered labyrinth of complexity all the time. Ok, like, SHIELD is a fucking mess, I know that, forget them. But you’ve got Thor, who practically bleeds good intentions, and if the history’s any indication Cap is Mr. Big Damn Hero Extraordinaire, and hey, I like to believe that when things get rough I’ve got the skills to get the shit done that needs to get done. You’ve got a good backup team up here, Doctor. We’re you’re people. If you, y’know. Want us to be.”

Banner gave a low chuckle. “I’m not sure you speak for everyone there, Stark…but thanks. I felt a lot more heroic when I was just…well, helping sick people be less sick.”

They shared a smile, suddenly quiet, and Tony caught a glimpse of that same confusing, almost yearning intensity.  He wanted so badly to know what was going on in Banner's head, and was so overwhelmed with the chaos of his own mind that he feared an imminent overflow.  The _bing_ from the scanner came as a relief _._

“There we go - we've got a high-res model we can work with now.  Should be able to zoom in enough to figure out the molecular makeup.”  Banner walked over to the monitor and pulled open the new file.

“So – is Q&A over, then?”

“Eh, what the hell. You got one more?”

“Uh. I do.”  The words were out before he even realized he was speaking.

“Shoot, then.”

_You're going to do this now?  Right now?  Really?_

Apparently so.

“Are you attracted to me?”

Dr. Banner dropped his clipboard, which made a loud clatter as it hit the floor. Comedy gold.

“I’m sorry?” he said as he bent over to pick it up.

“I asked if you were, um, attracted to me.”

“What does that have to do with – “

“Please just answer the question, Dr. Banner.”

Banner kept scratching at his notes; whether he was writing or pretending to, Tony couldn’t tell. “You’re smart, funny, you’re a good-looking guy – I’m sure most people find that attractive.”

“I’m not asking about most people, I – I’m asking about you.”

Banner left his writing with another clatter and turned to face Tony. He put his glasses on the clipboard and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Stark, why are you grilling me on this?”

“I – I’ve just felt, um, I don’t know, a certain amount of tension – “

“Oh God,” Banner groaned, pressing the flats of his palms to his eyebrows. “Look, Stark, if I’ve made you uncomfortable or I’ve been unprofessional in any way I am so sorry. It was never my intention – “

“No, Dr. Banner, please.” Tony shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m – my communication is obviously shit right now. I’m not calling you out on anything. If I’m making a big deal out of nothing – if I’ve embarrassed you – then I’m the one who should apologize. I’m not uncomfortable, I’m flattered. Um. Way beyond flattered.”

“…what are you trying to say?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I screwed up. Um.” He blew out a rush of air. “I just wanted to know. If I was crazy or not. If I was imagining – “

“Stark,” Banner cut him off. “You wanted to know if I was attracted to you.”

“Yeah.”

“Because, unless I’m completely misreading your cues here, you’re attracted to me. And if given the opening, you would like to do something about it.”

“Oh _God_ yes,” Tony breathed, and was horrified by how desperate it came out. Banner was staring at him with an unreadable expression – something between total confusion and the urge to flee?

 _Ohhhhhh I fucked up. I fuckedupIfuckedup._ Massive fucking error of judgment. Professional relationship destroyed. He would definitely not be able to show his face in the lab after this. But the rest of the Initiative was bound to wonder why – and oh God, what if Banner told them? He could just imagine it – Thor patting him on the back with hearty condolences, Rogers glaring at him and saying it was better for the team this way, and Romanoff, worst of all, wearing that face where she wasn’t smiling and yet he _knew_ she was laughing at him. Tony utterly hated himself. And then before he could start to get down to the business of really beating himself up properly, Dr. Banner closed the space between them, cupped Tony’s face in his hands, and kissed him.

Sudden, gentle, no trace of hesitation – just Banner’s mouth pressed firmly against his.

Tony’s eyes shot open in triumphant self-satisfaction. _HA! I WAS right! I was…_

_Oh._

Banner moved back, gave him a tentative smile as if he was a little afraid of getting slapped – and Tony just grinned at him, bumped noses, let his eyelashes flutter closed.

They tested each other’s waters, nuzzling lips, taking small experimental sips of each other, and their hands went naturally to each other hips, Banner’s arms on the outside, Tony’s on the inside. Tony got more daring, using just a hint of teeth to nibble at Banner’s bottom lip, and was rewarded with Banner sucking on his own lip before giving a shuddering exhale. Tony opened his eyes to find Banner’s gaze locked on him, and he pressed his forehead hard against Tony’s.

“Is this really ok with you?” he asked, breathing hard. “You…you want this?”

Tony looked into his eyes and wow, there was no subtlety about it now – Banner wanted him, _badly_ , and that knowledge set his blood rushing as he laughed out a breathy “ _Yes_ ” and pulled the doctor in by the hips.

After that Banner just _ignited._

Short, hot gasps of breath on Tony’s face, hard cock rubbing against the inside of his thigh, and that incredible heartbeat hammering relentlessly at inhuman speed against the metal of the arc reactor – it was intoxicating and completely overwhelming and very, _very_ good.

Banner slid his left hand to the small of Tony’s back and his right up to the back of his head, fingers weaving through his hair. Their mouths collided again, and _ah,_ Banner’s lips were just as soft and inherently kissable as they looked, and so, _so_ warm, and the way he flicked his tongue over Tony’s mouth was reminiscent of that habit of his, that tic he got when he was nervous – but there was no trace of nervousness in that motion now, and Tony parted his lips and let Banner into his mouth.

His tongue, that kiss, was hot enough to burn him. An intense yet pleasant burn, like sunlight, like raw ginger. Tony worried his own mouth must seem clammy and cold in comparison, but there was Dr. Banner kissing him, progressively harder and faster, and with a muffled moan Tony gave Banner his own tongue, twisting and tangling with him.

This was no longer an experiment. They had all the data they needed.

There was no question in his mind about what this kiss was leading into – they were moments away from losing clothes, conducting in-depth testing on further hypotheses, and something was weighing on the back of his mind, nagging at him, what was it…?

Oh yeah, they probably didn’t want to do that right _here._ In the lab. With the glass walls. Not to mention-

“Bruce,” he said, and he took a moment to relish how that name felt in his mouth even as he pushed the doctor back, ”Fury’s probably got cameras on the lab.”

“Tony,” Bruce replied, leaning back into him, “I’m almost sure I don’t care.”

“Hey. Hey hey hey hey – wait.” Tony had to put his hand against Bruce’s lips to keep him back. “This is still a public space. Any member of the crew could walk through whenever.” He jerked his head in the direction of the closet where extra lab supplies and cleaners were stored. “What do you say we take this somewhere with at least a vague semblance of privacy?”

“Are you propositioning me for sex in a supply closet?”

Tony nodded, and Bruce’s face broke into a gorgeous, predatory grin.

“Just when I thought I couldn’t get any harder.”

Suddenly cautious, checking to make sure no one was watching, they moved with due speed for the closet door, letting themselves in and sliding the door shut softly and securely behind them.

“Can we talk about this for a minute?” Tony asked as he moved a few boxes closer to the door, while Bruce slid a mop and bucket over with his foot.

“Oh. God. Yeah, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to rush into –“

“I’m clean. You?”

Bruce blinked a few times. “Oh. _Oh._ Yeah.” Grin. “I _am_ a doctor, Tony.”

“Oh, fair enough. Uh – another thing.” He took a deep breath, let it out, thought for a moment. “I’m trying to think of a polite way to ask this but I’m pretty sure there isn’t one, so I’ll just say it as rudely as possible – will getting intimate with you give me cancer, or cause me to grow a third arm, or any other gamma-related shenanigans?”

He expected Bruce to be at least a little offended, maybe even hurt, not to bite his lip and start laughing.

“Ohhhhhkay, not the reaction I was expecting, but - ?”

“Remember how I told you I had a personal project going on, yesterday?”

“Yeah?”

“I was measuring my own radiation levels. Just double-checking. Seeing what kind of long-term effects close-proximity exposure could have. And don’t worry, the results are good.”

“Close-proximity? But you were working as a doctor, wouldn’t you need to know – “

“ _Really_ close-proximity.”

“Oh…oh my God. Bruce!”

Bruce covered his mouth with his hand, then tapped it to his nose, positively _giggling._

“You _sly fucker!_ ”

“In order to suffer any adverse effects from the radiation I give off, you’d have to have sex with me nonstop for something like the next fifty years or so.”

“Well, fuck, so much for _that_ plan!”

“Oh, I’m flattered. But seriously, you don’t have to worry.”

By then they were both cracking up.

“I still can’t _believe_ you –“

“Contingency is the name of my game, Tony.”

“Shit – speaking of being prepared, I just realized I have zero protection, because for some reason,” smacking his hand to his forehead, “I decided I’d reached a point in my life where it was no longer necessary to carry a condom with me at all times.”

“No sweat, Tony. Um, as it is, I stay away from any kind of – insertional maneuvers? …for reasons that are pretty damn obvious, I would think.”

Tony made a small frown of concern. “Is that…a thing that could happen? Like, you could just – Hulk out in the middle?”

“Theoretically, yes. I don’t like to take risks. Like I said, contingency. However.” He stepped back into Tony’s personal space, hands back on his waist. “The Other Guy only shows up when I’m angry.” He nuzzled his nose against Tony’s left ear and whispered, “Right now I’m as far from angry as I can get.”

Between his words and the warmth of his breath, Tony started to melt, had to shake himself back to rationality. “Ah. Um. Any other boundaries I should know about?”

“Hmm.” Bruce nuzzled him again on the way back out, looked at him straight on. “No pain. Don’t inflict any on me; don’t ask me to inflict any on you. Just to be on the safe side.”

“Right. Got it. Anything else?”

“Isn’t that enough? I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

Tony chuckled. “Are you shitting me? You’re leaving me a lot of wiggle room, there.” He slid his arms around Bruce’s back, got a firm two-handed grip on his ass, watched his eyes light up. “We each have two hands,” he murmured, squeezing; “That’s good enough for me.”

“Mmm…what about you, Tony? Boundaries?”

“Honestly? Zero.” He kneaded with his fingers and Bruce made a deep, throaty noise. “I can think of _nothing_ I wouldn’t be willing to let you do to me right here, right now,” he whispered, and Bruce’s noise rose in pitch as he slammed Tony against the back wall of the closet and crushed their lips together.

They flowed together wordlessly, arms entwining, hands constantly moving, pressing, squeezing, sliding under shirts and waistbands, and Tony would’ve been content to keep kissing Bruce for an indeterminate amount of time, but Bruce moved his mouth to Tony’s neck, nipped at him, ran the hot wetness of his tongue along his jawline and down to his collarbone. Tony felt himself whimper, aching under that touch, rolling his hips forward to rub up against Bruce’s leg, and Bruce let him do that for a little while, let him search for the perfect amount of friction as he licked and kissed and nibbled.

Tony was falling hard, lost in the heat and the motion, all thought chased from his mind in favor of feeling and sensation and _want_ , and it escaped from his lips in gasps and quiet vocalizations. “Bruce,” he whispered, hands grasping hard at the other man’s shoulders, and then “Ah- _ahhh!_ ” at the light press of Bruce’s teeth right over the spot where his pulse was beating. Bruce groaned against his neck and met him in the middle with a sudden rock of his own hips, grinding against him, slipping his hands up under his shirt to stroke and pinch and explore, all the way up to the reactor.

Tony was so hard it hurt, his cries a mix of pleasure and pain, and Bruce seemed to sense his distress, moved a hand out from under his shirt and slowly undid his fly before sliding his hand inside to stroke him through his boxers. It was better, but it wasn’t _enough_ , and then Bruce tickled his ear with his lips, whispered with a heat that made Tony’s spine go weak.

“Hands or not…there’s no reason I can’t _blow_ you.”

He pulled Tony’s jeans and boxers down in one swift motion, and then instantly dropped to his knees.

“Oh,” Tony gasped, “Oh holy _shit_.”

Master of eloquence.

~*~

Pepper was a warrior princess in bed. She left marks that lasted for the better part of a week, and Tony would pull down his collar and look at them in the bathroom mirror whenever he was having a rough day. Pepper’s sexual ferocity was one of the many, many things Tony loved her for, and the memory of her straddling him with wild abandon kept him warm on the loneliest of nights.

Blowjobs, however, made her feel at either end too far away and impersonal. Pepper liked as much contact as possible during sex, including face-to-face – she loved to look her partners in the eye while she made their lives amazing. Out of habit and lack of exposure, Tony had also come to think of oral sex as a rushed and less-than-tender experience.

Bruce very quickly changed his attitude.

It was a long stretch of time before he even took him in, content to lap his tongue over the head, lick up the shaft, teasing and kissing, and it felt _good_ – beyond the sensation, it was just really _nice,_ having somebody lavish so much attention on his cock. Tony made a _mrrrr_ sound of contentment against the wall, using every ounce of self-control he possessed to hold his hips steady, to let Bruce do what he wanted with him.

Bruce flicked his eyes up to him, flashed him a grin, took Tony’s tip into his mouth and slid forward, and Tony’s satisfied purr opened up into a moan as he finally got his hands into the soft waves of Bruce’s hair.

Bruce let his jaw go slack and moved along Tony’s length, stroking him with his tongue, and _oh_ , the heat of it, it was perfection, and Tony fought the urge to fuck into it, thrust deep into that inferno of a mouth. He focused instead on working his fingers deeper into Bruce’s hair, arching his back off of the wall, pinpricks of sweat breaking out all over his body.

He had been so hard when Bruce opened his mouth for him that he’d worried he’d come almost instantly, but every time he got close Bruce backed off a little, ran his tongue in circles around his cock, let him feel that pleasure without climaxing. There was something so definitive about all of his actions, not gentle, _ohhhh God,_ gentle was _not_ the right word, but – _deliberate_ , like everything he did came out exactly as intended, with care and thought and raw energy behind it.

Tony threw his head back and let himself get lost in it, fingers rubbing and pressing against the base of the doctor’s skull. “Oh, _God…oh…Brucccccce…”_

What struck Tony most, beyond how incredibly good it felt to have his cock sucked with such attentive expertise, was how obvious it was that Bruce was _enjoying_ himself, making hungry sounds deep in his throat that Tony could _feel_ pulsing against him, taking the opportunity now and again to look up at Tony’s flushed, spellbound face, working one hand up and around his ass while the other stroked against Bruce’s own lap.

With that sudden squeeze against his butt, Tony’s hips jutted forward, completely involuntary, taking him deeper into Bruce, pushing him _right_ to the edge, and he groaned, lost his grip on Bruce’s hair, had to brace his hands against the wall to keep from toppling.

“Oh, Jesus fuck, Bruce, I - !”

And Bruce just took him in deeper, farther than he’d even thought was possible, past the ridges of his palate and into the softness of the back of his throat, muscles there moving against his tip, and Tony let himself go, thrusting hard, building that pleasure to the breaking point.

“Oh…oh _fuck_ …oh _Bruce…_ ”

Head back, palms flat against the wall, mouth open in a cry of total ecstasy, Tony came.

~*~

Tony was a screamer at heart. He could play it cool when the situation warranted, but he had a good set of lungs and he liked to use them. Pepper loved it, and Tony’s cries paired with her excitement made for some beautiful moments of escalation.

Bruce was so good at what he was doing that Tony couldn’t have held it in if he’d tried.

He didn’t try.

When Agent Natasha Romanoff walked into the lab to get a progress report (to take to Director Fury, she kept insisting to herself), she recognized Tony’s voice immediately. It would have been impossible to mistake it for anyone else’s, even if she hadn’t heard it before in similarly awkward contexts.

“Seriously, Stark?” she muttered under her breath.

He’d been on the boat for what, four days? And he already had some poor sap in his clutches. Probably one of the younger pilots. Unbelievable.

She was about to turn and leave when she heard, amidst the moans and “oh God yes”s, the clear and unmistakable sound of Dr. Banner’s name.

_No._

She executed a cartoonishly undignified double-take. Very un-Natasha, but… _no way_.

And Banner had been in the lab recently, because there were his glasses folded on top of a clipboard on the counter.

Stark and Banner.

Plot fucking twist.

“Shit,” she hissed. Having two members of the Initiative engaged in a sexual relationship was the last thing they needed. As if things weren’t complicated enough already. Especially with two such _volatile_ members – it was like keeping the dynamite and the matches in the same box and hoping for the best.

 _Stark_ and _Banner_. She felt as if she’d been unwillingly flung into an extra-terrible alternate universe. Made for some pretty interesting mental images, though.

Someone was going to have to tell Fury.

And because she was apparently the first one to discover what was going on, that was going to fall to her.

”… _Shit_.”

As Natasha stepped quietly out of the lab and made her way back to the bridge, she considered not for the first time whether or not it would be impossible to get a new day job.

…yeah, pretty much impossible.

“Agent Romanoff,” Fury greeted her from his place on the bridge.

“Director Fury. May I have a word in private?”

His brow furrowed ever-so-slightly and he stepped away from his position at the head console and walked back with her to the empty conference table.

“Something wrong?” he asked in hushed tones.

“No – well, nothing major,” she replied in kind.

“News from the lab?”

“They’ve got labs all along the east coasts of North and South America as well as most of the bigger facilities in Europe running scans for the cube’s signature.”

Fury nodded pensively. “It’s a damn good start, anyway.”

“And, uh, Stark and Banner are apparently having sex.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “’Apparently’?”

“I mean, they are definitely having sex; I have empirical evidence but,” she cringed, “I wouldn’t be heartbroken if you took my word for it and didn’t ask me how I know.”

Fury allowed just a hint of a smile to play across his face. “How long have they both been onboard, Agent Romanoff?”

“Four days, sir.”

“Four days.” He pursed his lips, nodded again. “Still faster than I expected, all things considered.”

There was a heavy moment of silence.

“Sir,” Natasha said flatly, “Even with all of our years working together, you cannot possibly expect me to believe that you knew this was going to happen.”

“Natasha,” Fury scoffed, “You’ve worked with Stark before, you’ve seen his files, you know his MO. What type is he attracted to?”

“Well, before he officially got together with Pepper I would’ve said anything female and alive, but…” She sighed, thought about it for a moment. “Shit. Colleagues. People with as much power – or intelligence – as he has. Is that what you’re getting at?”

“More or less. Once he gets attached to someone, he also tends to build a protection complex around that relationship. I’m sure Dr. Banner’s vulnerability triggered that almost instantly.”

“Sir, in my defense, I didn’t even know Stark was bi.”

Fury smirked. “You obviously never read up on his time at MIT.”

“Wasn’t he…fifteen then?” She flinched. “Ew.”

“And Dr. Banner’s been alone for a _long_ time, had to go a lot of years now without someone who isn’t afraid of him in his life. Much less someone who genuinely likes him. Natural recipe for good chemistry.”

“With all due respect, Director, the level of calm you’re exhibiting in the face of this information is _deeply_ unsettling.”

“We need to keep Stark interested, and we need to keep Banner relaxed.” He shrugged. “The way I see it, this way we get both.”

“Or we get a cataclysmic disaster if one of them jilts the other.”

“Well then, I guess we’ll just have to hope we track down the cube before that happens,” Fury concluded with infuriating calm, and Natasha couldn’t bring herself to come up with a response – just shook her head, very slowly, in disbelief.

~*~

After he had come and Bruce had taken it all in with a kind of grateful hunger, Tony utterly lost his ability to stand and slid down the wall to his ass. Bruce leaned in and kissed him; Tony could taste the salt of his own body on Bruce’s lips.

“Holy _fuck_ Bruce,” he gasped, gazing up at him in post-coital bleariness, still shaking a little, and then as Bruce backed out of the kiss he noticed the growing wet spot at the front of his pants. They looked at each other for a moment and then burst into a fit of laughter, trying to stifle each other as the noise bounced off the metal and tile of the closet.

“Yeeeah – I got a little overexcited.” Bruce grinned sheepishly. “I’m going to need a different pair of pants.”

“Oh. Wow. I didn’t realize this closet had so much reverb. Um.”

“Yeah.”

“…shit. Do you think anybody heard that?”

“Tony, I think they heard that on the _ground._ ”

“Ohh. I don’t care anywhere close to as much as I should. _Ah._ ” Tony leaned back against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

Before Bruce could stand up, he grabbed onto his collar and drew him in for one more kiss.

“Let’s meet up tonight. I’m going to pay you back, Bruce. Fifty times over. With interest.”

Bruce hesitated. “My room’s probably bugged. And I swear someone’s outside checking on it every half an hour. I’ve heard it, when I haven’t been able to sleep.”

“Seriously? That is such bullshit, Bruce.” Tony pushed himself up to his knees. “Just come to my room, I’m next to Thor and he could sleep through anything.” When Bruce still looked torn, he added, “If Fury’s got us all bugged, it’s way too late to play dumb anyway. C’mon, Bruce, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Hm. Fury kicks us both off the helicarrier.”

“Exactly. The scans go on without us, the rest of the crew finds the cube, we spend the weekend in Malibu.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“Wait until the auxiliary lights in the hallway come on. Most of the activity seems to have died down by then.”

“It’s a date.” Bruce stood up and helped Tony to his feet.

“See you then?”

“Why, where the hell are you going all afternoon? There’s a freaky alien weapon in the lab with our names on it.”

Tony adopted an expression of mock indignance. “How do you expect me to focus on lab work when I’m thinking about what I’m going to do to you in less than eight hours?”

“You’re an adult,” Bruce reassured him, groping him before he could pull up his underwear. Tony yelped. “I’m sure you’ll manage. I do need to change though. I’m just glad I _have_ other pants. I’ll be right back.” He turned to Tony in the doorway and pointed at him. “Don’t go anywhere, ok?” Then he was gone.

 _So that’s what Dr. Banner looks like when he’s happy,_ Tony thought as he zipped up his pants.  _Like really, genuinely happy._

… _I could get used to it._


	5. Touched

Tony would have been more than happy to spend the rest of the day getting a whole lot more intimate with Bruce and a whole lot less intimate with the molecular composition of an alien artifact, but as a way to pass the time it wasn’t half bad. And it certainly helped that now, in between scans and tests and readings, over the steady flow of ideas and spinoff ideas and incredibly high quality conversation, he and Bruce could look each other in the eye, exchange knowing smiles, without embarrassment or confusion.

Just two colleagues doing their jobs. On the clock, so to speak. With so much still to learn.

So much to look forward to.

~*~

“Pepper, I – I did it. I couldn’t wait and I talked to him about it.”

“Annnnd?”

“…he took me into a closet and went down on me.”

“Oh my God. Are you kidding? …you’re kidding. You’re fucking with me.”

“I swear I’m not. I am now the one being fucked with.”

The trill of her laughter sounded down the phone. “Oh my _God…_ you know what the highlight of my day was? Lunar Module 2.”

“Well, but that’s exciting, though.”

“Uh-huh, meanwhile you’re thousands of feet up saving the world and getting laid. You can tell him when you come back down that he’s going to need to get in line.”

“This was _not_ my plan, by the way. At all. I was going to remain calm and cool and extremely professional.”

“Right. Well done.” She sighed. “For heaven’s sake be _careful_. I think SHIELD’s policies on fraternization might be slightly stricter than your average office.”

“Lucky neither one of us is on the SHIELD payroll then.”

“You know – I’m a little pissed at you. For not at least introducing me first. But, um. I did some Google image searches, and I have to say…the mental imagery is dazzling.”

~*~

The last few hours were the worst, when he realized he didn’t know exactly what time the subdued lighting came on in the corridor. Staring at the clock and willing it to move faster was not a helpful or useful strategy.

He spent half an hour debating with himself whether or not to get involved in a project to keep from going temporarily insane. He decided against it on the grounds that once he started something up he had a hell of a time putting it back down, and he was tormented by visions of Bruce gazing at him with pleading in his eyes while he tried to bargain for five more minutes.

He spent the half hour after that wishing that he were a better casual reader in his old age, that he didn’t have the attention span for literature of a goldfish on speed.

At 9:30 he gave up entirely. “Jarvis, bring up the plans for Mark VIII.”

After that, he wouldn’t have noticed if an entire week passed. It wasn’t as good as actual shop, being able to get his hands filthy with oil and grease, but it was so, so much better than trying to wait. Possibilities wanted exploring – so many new directions to try, and so hard not to go off in every direction at once, to zone in on just one – but once he chose his focus turned laserlight. And then there were the problems to be solved. This one, for instance. Energy generated to energy used. There had to be a more efficient path, this time around, with an entirely new element on his side. But the input: output didn’t make sense. Somewhere energy was being wasted. Unacceptable. But where –

“Uh. Your door was open, so I let myself in.”

Tony made a sound that was almost a word but not quite.

“I…tried knocking a few times.”

“Bluh.” Tony pressed two fingertips to his forehead. “Sorry. Coming back down. Rest of my brain will catch up with you – very shortly. Any second.”

Bruce smiled at him and paced around the room, examining the range of blueprints. “Is this the armor you have now, or one that hasn’t been built yet?”

“This one is still completely pre-build. I’ve built a few upgrades since I learned how to keep my life support from killing me, but I have an energy loss issue with the upgraded reactor core. It should have protracted my battery life triple, but the actual output doesn’t match my numbers. And it’s not a few decimal places, either – it’s a significant loss.”

Bruce took his glasses out of his pocket and put them on, looking closely at the reactor core model and expanding it easily with a flick of his fingers. Tony sighed in appreciative admiration.

“God but it’s good to see someone use a holo without having to take seven tries first. Have you even seen Agent Coulson try it? I had to leave the room.”

“Haven’t had the pleasure yet.” He frowned. “What materials are you using on this wiring coming here – and here – to the reactor?”

Tony pulled up a document with another swipe. “Here’s my list. It’s keyed to highlight the material name of whatever part is highlighted on the model itself.”

Bruce tapped a few parts, eyes on the list. “Aha. I think that may be your problem.”

“Same thing I’ve used since Mark II.”

“That was before vibranium, right? I only know as much as you do – I’ve read your papers. But if this part of the inner chest wall – here – reacts with your new core the way it does with similar elements, it’s absorbing energy from your wiring before it can even reach its intended destination. You could change the wiring, but that’s a fickle solution that might cause more problems than it solves. But if you were to coat the wiring in a different material that absorbs minimal energy, say for example – “

He was interrupted by Tony’s mouth ferociously smashing into his. The holo displays powered down discreetly, leaving the room lit only by the soft glow emanating from Tony’s chest, which was eclipsed as he drew himself closer to Bruce, grinding his hips against him so hard that the doctor had to take a step back to keep from losing his balance.

“Do you have any idea,” Tony gasped, “how hard it was not to do that to you all afternoon?”

“This is just how I talk,” Bruce replied, tracing his fingers against Tony’s hips. “I can count the number of non-technical conversations I have in any given week on one hand.”

“Which hand? This one?”

“Sure?”

Tony raised Bruce’s right hand to his lips and sank his teeth gently into the middle knuckle. “Sounds like you need more to talk about.”

“I have a few ideas.” Bruce slid his hands under Tony’s shirt. “For example, right now I’m trying to think of the right words to say that’ll get you naked as quickly as possible.”

“Well how about that – got it in one.”

“Did I?” His hands slid further up, brushing over Tony’s abdomen and settling warm on his chest. “They don’t call me a genius for nothing, then. Arms up.”

Tony lifted his arms skyward and Bruce slid his shirt up and off, planting a kiss on his mouth as it fell to the floor. The room got a little brighter.

“That is really fucking hot,” Bruce sighed. “Is that weird? I don’t know – does that make me weird?”

“What, is this turning you on?” Tony asked, framing the reactor with his fingers. “The way this is keeping the shrapnel out of my vital organs – that what does it for you, Banner?”

“Whatever. That’s the sexiest damn life support system I’ve ever seen.” He ran his fingertips along the edges. “How careful do I need to be with this?”

“Do your worst. You won’t break anything important.”

“Hm. I was planning on doing my best…” Bruce hooked his fingers through Tony’s beltloops and pulled him in.

“Hey, I’m the one who’s supposed to be paying you back, remember?”

“Tony, I am not keeping score.”

“Nevertheless.” Tony kissed him again, gently this time, and reached for his top button. As it popped open and he slipped his fingers to the second, he moved his lips to Bruce’s exposed collarbone, then slid his tongue, excruciatingly slow, up his neck as he undid the third and fourth. Bruce’s breathing got heavier, and Tony could see his pulse fluttering against his throat. As he opened the last four buttons he kissed Bruce right over that flutter of motion, adding the slightest nip of teeth, then running over the spot with his tongue.

Bruce’s mouth opened in a whispered “ _ah_ ” as he shrugged out of his shirt, turned his attention to Tony’s pants, unbuttoning and unzipping and tugging, and Tony helped him, guided his hands along to pull at the legs of his jeans before he stepped out of them, because damn it, this was taking too long. His fingers were at Bruce’s fly before the other man even had time to get to his boxers, and he pulled at the waist, taking a moment to admire Bruce’s cock straining against his briefs before depriving him of pants and underwear both in the same motion. Bruce made a strangled sound and crashed against him, kissing him with full lips and teeth and tongue as his fingers tugged at his boxers, pushed them out of the way, settled firmly on his butt.

Tony let himself drown in that kiss, heart pounding in his throat, cock pulsing against Bruce’s hip, working his tongue hard into Bruce’s mouth and using it to embrace and explore and taste, and if the heat of this other body had been overwhelming clothed it was nothing compared to how Bruce felt naked. His skin was fire every single place they touched, which was _ohh, so_ many places at the moment, and Bruce’s lips were at his neck now, returning favors, so he kissed where he could reach, on the shoulder, against his ear…

With that touch of lips on his ear, Bruce gave a louder “ _Ah!_ ” and then froze. Interesting. Tony took his earlobe between his lips and sucked, gently, and Bruce shuddered and whimpered. Pushing the experiment further, he took Bruce’s whole ear in his mouth, licking against the shell-like curves and whorls, and the whimpering opened up into a breathy, anxious groan. Tony grinned to himself, whispering a promise – “How do you like it, Dr. Banner? Just tell me, and I’ll do it” – and then delivered the coup de grace, shoving his tongue all the way into Bruce’s ear, and Bruce made a sound that could only be described as a growl before throwing Tony down onto the bed.

There it was again, that deliberate, firm action – it didn’t hurt but it knocked the wind out of Tony’s lungs, and then Bruce was on top of him, holding himself up with his palms flat on either side of Tony’s head, panting and grinning.

“You’re pretty strong,” Tony gasped. “For a little guy.”

“That’s another bonus feature,” Bruce explained breathlessly. “And you have an inch on me, Tony, maybe an inch and half _tops_.”       

“Not where it’s important.”

Bruce laughed, but he sat up, straddling Tony’s chest, so he could run his fingers up and into his armpits.

“You trying to punish me that way, Bruce?” Tony gave him a wicked smile. “Because that’s _not_ going to work. Feels pleasant, but not going to get the reaction you’re going for. Whereas _you_ – “

He danced his own fingers up Bruce’s ribcage, and the doctor’s eyes widened in delighted horror.

“Are you _ticklish,_ Dr. Banner?”

“OhfuckTonyno _please_ –“

But Tony’s fingers were already buried in the skin and fuzz under Bruce’s arms, and with that collapse of Bruce’s full weight on him he was finally getting the kind of closeness he craved, even if it was slowly crushing him in the process. Bruce was squirming and thrashing and laughing on top of him and it did absolutely nothing to discourage the light brushes and sudden strokes of fingers that were having such a profound and intense effect.

“Ahhh _shit please_ Tony – “

“You’re not going to change, are you, Bruce?” he asked, backing off.

“N-no, but if I knee you in the groin I am _not_ apologizing.”

“Ouch, fair enough.” But he got in one more short burst of tickles before giving up for good. Bruce fell off of him to the side and poked him, hard, in the ribs.

“You’re horrible,” he said, but he was smiling.

“You shouldn’t deal it if you can’t take it,” Tony retorted. He tried to scoot over, give Bruce a little more room. “This is a _very_ small bed.”

“I don’t think SHIELD designed it for this.” Bruce slid his hand behind Tony’s neck and rubbed. “…makes it more exciting, doesn’t it?”

Tony purred agreement, brought his hand up to cup Bruce’s face. "You gonna keep your glasses on for all of this?"

"I'm farsighted.  I can see you better this way."  He touched his fingertips to the edges of the right lens and adjusted, all theatrics.  "This what does it for _you,_ Stark?" 

"God.  Yes."  He traced circles with his thumb over Bruce's cheekbone.  “You know…you still haven’t told me how you want me to make you come.”

Bruce gave a full-body shiver, as delicious to watch as it was to feel. “God, I…just touch me. Put your hands all over me. I – I just want to feel you everywhere.”

Tony swallowed, mouth suddenly very dry, because what could he possibly say to that? Nothing – he just had to _do_ it.

“No tickling though,” Bruce added as Tony ran his hand down his face, wrapped his other arm around him so he could touch him in more places at once.

“I promise,” he agreed, and gave Bruce what he wanted.

It was like stoking a fire, running his hands over Bruce. He could feel the slow, steady burn in every inch of skin, with a flare every now and then as he rubbed his thumb hard over a nipple or slid the flat of his palm down the trail of soft black fuzz on Bruce’s abdomen and Bruce’s mouth opened into small, soft noises of desire. The more Tony touched him, the more Bruce’s own hands sought him out, stroking and pressing, pulling him in tighter, until finally their lips collided again and they stayed locked in that kiss, building heat.

Tony, feeling Bruce tight against him, couldn’t wait any longer, slid his hand against the smooth skin of his thighs, squeezed, and finally stroked his cock from shaft to tip. Bruce’s whole lower body trembled, muscles in his thighs tightening as he bucked just a little into that touch. “ _Oh_ ,” he moaned, “Tony, yes _please_ , I am so ready for that.”

God, to hear his name from Bruce’s lips like that! He tightened his fist, taking a few more long, drawn-out pulls of Bruce’s cock before working into a slow, steady rhythm. Bruce gasped and murmured against him, drawing him into another kiss, and _God,_ his tongue was hot and thick and incredibly suggestive, he couldn’t help but imagine Bruce entering him, stretching him, filling him…

 _Easy, Tony_. He gave his hand a sudden twist and Bruce moaned against his lips, started thrusting in counter rhythm to his strokes until he spoke a quiet “ow.”

Tony stopped, stilled his hand. “You ok?”

“Sorry, honestly want to go faster, but I’m chafing.” Bruce winced. “Slow down?”

“Better idea.” Tony lifted his hand to his mouth and gently spat into it. He returned to Bruce, stroking him a few times and then letting him slide into the warm wetness of his fist. “Good?”

“Ohhh ok, _yes_ , that’s – God, that feels _amazing._ ” He grasped Tony’s shoulders in his hands, kneading into him a little as he thrust forward experimentally. Tony twisted his hand again, harder this time, and Bruce’s eyes fluttered shut as he groaned. “Fuck, _yes._ Just like that.”

Tony kept twisting as Bruce began thrusting faster, shuddering against Tony’s skin, too far gone to have the coordination to kiss him.   His leg jostled against Tony’s own aching cock, that teasing, trace amount of friction resulting in trails of fluid against Bruce’s thigh as a whimper of amazement and need worked its way out of Tony's throat. Bruce was unbearably gorgeous and miraculously _here_ , with him, in his bed, saying his name in ways that made him proud to own it, as if for these moments his whole universe existed within Tony’s fist.

“ _So_ close,” he whispered, by way of celebration or warning Tony wasn’t sure, but he responded by sliding his hand all the way over Bruce as tight as he dared without hurting him. Bruce _growled_ again, low and throaty, and rolled over him, trapping him underneath, propping himself up again on his hands. Tony lifted his left hand, now free, to Bruce’s groin, cupping his balls and gently squeezing while he continued stroking his cock with his right, and Bruce’s moans rose to a perfect crescendo as he used his full range of motion to thrust harder, faster, until he shuddered and gasped and came in a hot splash across Tony’s belly and chest.

He looked surprised at himself, falling farther into the support of his hands. “Oh God, Tony, I’m –“ Before he could apologize or feel self-conscious Tony lifted his hand to his face, gave him the most smoldering look in his entire repertoire, and used his other hand to rub Bruce’s cum, slowly, into his skin. “Oh,” Bruce moaned, entranced, “ok, then,” and he fell to Tony’s side, still shaking in spasms, taking in gulps of air.

“Bruce,” Tony said in a strangled whisper, “if you don’t start touching me soon, I’m going to do it myself.”

“Just…give me time…” Bruce rolled to his side with an incredible effort, flashed a lopsided grin at Tony, eyes glazed over. Tony grinned back.

“You look utterly stoned.” Bruce giggled through his nose. “Is this another feature?”

“No,” Bruce gasped. “Always been like this.” Another shudder pulsed through him “You know…if you want to start without me…I’m not stopping you…”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Tony zoned in on his eyes – they were shining in the dark, two small blue pinpoints of light glowing where the arc reactor was reflected. Without breaking eye contact, he reached down and began to touch himself.

Bruce stared, mesmerized, eyes darting between Tony’s face and his cock, and as Tony continued stroking he heard a low whine before Bruce leaned forward and touched their lips together. It was easy to keen along with him, because it felt so _good_ , touching himself while Bruce murmured and nuzzled and kissed. He was floating in the perfect balance of relaxation and lust…but he wasn’t touching Bruce enough, not nearly enough. It was a problem.

He rolled Bruce over gently with his hands and wrapped around him, holding him tight, his lips shuddering against Bruce’s shoulder, and his cock slid involuntarily between the soft, warm skin of Bruce’s thighs. _Ah_ – that was worth experimenting with. He slid his hips forward, gauging the amount of sensation, of skin on skin, and did not find it wanting.

Bruce made a small sound of contentment. “That feels nice, Tony. Keep doing that.” He wet his own hand at his mouth and reached between his legs, stroking Tony a few times until he was slippery.

This was better, much better, his skin rubbing against Bruce’s now in so many places, his hands free to roam over Bruce’s legs and belly and chest. Even sated, Bruce made such wonderful sounds, reveling in how much Tony wanted him, in how turned on he was. As Tony began sinking further into the pleasure of it, thrusting harder between his thighs, Bruce took the tip of his cock into his tightly closed palm, and it was stupidly good, that precise, calculated touch in addition to the feel of all that skin against him.

“Bruce,” he whispered, “I want to come like this.” Bruce didn’t speak, just added more spit to his hand, stroked him wetter so he could thrust even harder, and as he did Bruce brought his hand to the end of his cock again, extending the sensation deeper so he could feel it along his full length with each roll of his hips. He groaned against Bruce’s naked shoulder blade and let himself free of any mental restraint, fucked hard into the warmth and the wet until his nerves flipped and the pleasure rocked though him as he gushed into Bruce’s fist.

Bruce held him there until he stopped shaking, then gently let him go, wiping his hand against the coverlet. His body had cooled down, but only so much as the difference between a bonfire and glowing embers; Tony’s front side felt so warm against him that his back was freezing in contrast. But moving seemed like the worst possible thing.

“Thank you,” Bruce said softly.

Tony poked at him, just shy of tickling. “What’re you _thanking_ me for? The honor of having my jizz all over your hand?”

Bruce reached up behind him to grab the offending hand and pin it to Tony’s side. “Thanking you for the sex, asshole. You can probably imagine that it’s been a while. Ages, in fact. Since I’ve had even the opportunity to be with someone so…”

“Famous? Intelligent?” He wiggled his hand free and scritched Bruce behind the ear. “Astoundingly good-looking?”

“Mm.” Bruce stretched his neck. “It sounds a bit lame, but I was going to say ‘nice.’”

“Wait, so just a second ago I was an asshole and now I’m ‘nice’?”

“Huh. Actually, I think ‘nice asshole’ sums you up perfectly.”

Tony laughed in spite of himself. “All right, fair’s fair. Fifty points to Dr. Banner for an astute personality profile.”

Bruce rolled over to face him, propping up his head with one hand. “I like you, Tony. You know that, right?”

“ _Like_ like?” Tony asked, waggling his eyebrows. Bruce sighed, exasperated.

“You know what I mean. Your companionship is pleasant and not undesirable.”

“ _Kind_ of got that impression from you when you blew me in a closet. If that’s something you do to people you don’t like, you’re doing it wrong.” Bruce laughed silently with his eyes cast down, the way Tony had noticed he reacted when he was just the slightest bit embarrassed. He tipped Bruce’s chin up, coaxed his eyes back out from under his lashes. “So…we’re doing this again, right?”

“God, I hope so.”

“Good. Awesome.” He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “’Cause I have no future plans to give you up. I was serious about Stark Tower. Besides, I want to get you into an _actual_ bed. Not a dorm bunk.”

“Oh,” Bruce said, clearly interested. “That _does_ sound good. A full day of research, a real bed…”

“No SHIELD agents to worry about…”

“And you, naked…”

“For the research?”

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t sound very productive.”

“Hm. That depends _entirely_ on your definition of productivity…”  He stroked his fingers down Tony's chest.  "I mean, it's an initial success, but the data is still...inconclusive.  Repeat testing is a must.  For clarity.  Make sure we've cornered all possible variables."

“ _Oh._ Doctor…you know exactly how to get me.”

“Right in the science?”

“Right in the science. I am so effectively and efficiently seduced.”

“’S all right, you know how to get me too…”

“How?”

Oh, that _smile_ , just predatory enough to get his heart going…

“Call me ‘Doctor.’” Lips on his neck, sudden and hot.

“Oh… _Doctor_ …”

He loved the feel of that chuckle vibrating against his throat. “Ok, easy, if you do it too often it’ll lose its power.”

“God, I want to take you home with me _now_.”

“Oh, Tony, believe you me, I want to go.”

“Ah – although the first thing I have to do is introduce you to Pepper. Otherwise I think she might – Bruce?”

Dr. Banner had suddenly frozen, pulled away from him, a look of dawning horror on his face.

“OhmyfuckingGod.”

“Bruce?”

“All this time I knew there was something important I was forgetting, and – oh _Christ.”_

“You didn’t know about – Bruce, talk to me. Come on. Get that pillow off your face.”

From underneath fabric and stuffing he heard Bruce’s voice, muffled but completely devastated.

“I’m a homewrecker.”

“What? _What?_ Bruce – no.” Tony forcibly pulled the pillow off of him. “First of all, it takes two to tango and how the _hell_ would this be your fault? Second, Pepper and I aren't monogamous.”

“You what.”

“We’re polyamorous. Both of us. Consensual, communicating adults.” Bruce sat up, still looking confused but less like his immediate universe was about to end. “We started out exclusive when we got together – wanted each other to ourselves for a while. But we branched out. By mutual agreement. And despite what you and most people might believe, I wasn’t even the first one to bring it up.”

“That’s – a thing that people do?”

“It is a thing that we, as people, do. I’m sure no set of people does it quite the same way. We talk. A lot. Pepper knows about you. She knows we’re having sex.” Bruce ran a hand up through his hair, taking it all in. “I’m sorry, I should’ve talked more about this with you. It seems obvious in hindsight that you wouldn’t just know, or assume anything. I fucked up. I’m sorry. ...Are you ok?”

Bruce sighed. “Yeah. I guess? This is...new for me.  Not just you and Pepper, but - all of this.  Being...with anyone.  I mean - I don't mind sharing you?  As long as it's safe, physically, for everyone involved.  I’m just glad no one’s heart is getting broken on my account."

"Sure, that's understandable.  I really, really should have talked to you about this sooner.  I'm sorry."

"No, it's ok.  Really." He sighed again, leaned back a little.  "Tony...what is this," gesturing to the pair of them, "exactly?"

"What do you want it to be?" Tony said simply.

"Well...I want to keep sleeping with you."

"Oh, good."

"And I want to keep working with you.  I mean, even after we find the Tesseract, and deal with whatever fallout comes from that.  Y'know, like we talked about - I don't know exactly when, because I left some unfinished business behind me when SHIELD brought me in, but I want to do some research.  Get some real answers about how...this condition works."

Tony smirked at him.  "You can say 'fuck buddy,' Bruce.  I won't judge you."

Bruce did the soundless, embarrassed laugh again, and nodded.

"Dr. Banner, I would consider it an honor to be your fuck buddy.  As far as Pepper goes, if you want to talk to her, clear the air, just let me know.  We could call her right now, if you want."

“Tony, it’s _very_ late on the American east coast right now. I don’t want that to be my first impression, ok? I’ll wait and meet her in person. And I’m not going to pretend it’s not intimidating.”

Tony gave him a comforting smile. “I think you’re going to like each other. I mean, I’d be shocked if you didn’t.”

“Well…I won't say no to having more people who like me in my life. Still intimidated though.”

“I won’t ask you not to be. But it’s gonna be ok. Promise.”

“That’s a tall promise.”

Tony pulled him down into a full-body hug. “That’s what the extra inch and a half is for.”

“Really. That’s how you comfort me. With a short joke.”

Tony just snuggled into him harder, breathing in the smell of sex and sweat.

“…I _really_ don’t want to leave,” Bruce said after a few moments of silent cuddling.

“So don’t.”

“Hm. I’d just as soon all of SHIELD _didn’t_ know we were screwing, actually.”

“We can just have Jarvis get you up early. Then you can sneak back to your room. Nobody catches wise.”

“…I’d argue more, but I’m way too comfortable.”

Tony ran his hands up Bruce’s back and into his hair, scratching circles against his scalp; Bruce hummed and snuggled closer against him. Tony’s back was still freezing, and he was just about to ask Bruce if they could get up so he could throw a blanket over his back half – _just_ about to ask, for about twenty minutes – before falling suddenly and completely asleep.


	6. Partnered

“Good morning, sir and sir. The time is now 7 a.m. We are currently over the Mid-Atlantic, altitude forty-two thousand feet.”

The first thing Tony saw when he opened his eyes was Bruce’s bare shoulders. The reality chasing his dreams out of his head was better than anything his conscious and subconscious combined could’ve invented. He rubbed his face into Bruce and closed his eyes, and then that second much less desirable layer of reality slapped him awake.

“Shit shit shit _shit_.” He grabbed those beautiful, peaceful shoulders and shook them. “Bruce. Wake up.”

“Hmwhat’sit?” Bruce rolled over and beamed groggily at him. “Mm. Morning Tony.”

“Goddammit. It’s seven a.m., Bruce.”

“ _Shit._ ” Bruce scrambled out of bed. “How did that happen?”

“I don’t know, Jarvis was supposed to wake you up early –“

“You failed to specify a specific time, sir, so I defaulted to your preset alarm.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Jarvis.”

“Bad manners will get you nowhere, sir.”

“It’s ok,” Bruce assured him as he yanked his pants up. “If I hurry there’s still a chance no one will notice.” He crushed his mouth against Tony’s in a hurried kiss. “See you in the lab later?”

“Yeah, for sure. Geez, so much for a tender morning, huh?”

Bruce shrugged, scooping his shirt off the floor. “Duty calls. Right?” He slid the door open quietly, slipped out into the hallway, and narrowly missed running head-on into Thor.

“Good morning, Dr. Banner,” the Asgardian said, and then the wheels started spinning as he took in Bruce, shirtless, coming out of a room that wasn’t his, with Tony frozen in the background barely covered by the sheet he’d had just enough time to pull up. The pieces fell into place, and Thor’s face, to their mutual surprise, broke into a delighted, goofy grin.

“Congratummphrrr.”

Bruce had clapped his hand over Thor’s mouth. “Sssh. Thor. Please. Do not. Tell. Anyone. Do you understand?”

“You wish your liaisons to remain a secret?” Thor asked in a hushed voice after Bruce carefully took his palm away.

“ _Yes_ ,” Bruce and Tony replied firmly, in unison.

Thor frowned, the picture of outrageously handsome bewilderment. “Why?”

Only he would ask. “Some people – SHIELD higher-ups – might think it’s unprofessional,” Tony explained lamely. “Might think it damages the integrity of the mission. Something like that.”

“It is uncustomary on this planet to sleep with your equals – your colleagues?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“I see. How profoundly frustrating that must be.” He mulled it over. “But not without its practicalities, I suppose.”

“Seriously though,” Tony said severely, adjusting the sheet over his crotch. “Don’t you freaking tell _anyone._ ”

“Yes, please don’t spread it around,” Bruce echoed. “We solemnly promise this will not affect the quality of our work. Right Tony?”

“Uh – absolutely. Yes.”

Thor nodded. “I am familiar with the life of court, remember – I can understand and respect the need for discretion. Your secret is safe in my care.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks, man.”

“But I am very happy for the both of you.” He clapped Bruce on the back and left them both in stunned silence.

“What the hell just happened?” Bruce finally said.

“Something adorable and a little bit magical.”

~*~

They stared down at Loki’s spear. Like the proverbial abyss, it stared back.

“Kid gloves are coming out for this one,” Tony said.

“Yeahhhhh, I’m _not_ touching that,” Bruce agreed.

“Uh-huh. Not with your bare hands anyway.”

“There’s some nitrile gloves in the drawer –“

“Oh, no way. This calls for something more intensive. In other words I’ll be right back.”

He returned a few minutes later with the gauntlets from the Mark VI, covered from fingertips to elbow. Bruce glanced up and let out a low whistle.

“…wow. I know I said I wasn’t into the suits, but…that’s kind of hot?”

“Wait, how?!”

Bruce tapped his index finger against his bottom lip. “Trying to figure that out. I think it’s because I can still see your face? Like, it’s only a partial covering? Something like that –“

“Ok, no. Don’t.”

“Don’t –?”

“Don’t develop a suit kink. That is not going anywhere good.”

“Aww.”

“No, seriously. I don’t have the necessary finesse with this thing on. If I tried jerking you off with these?” – flexing the gauntlets – “I would break your dick.”

“Well, that’s a definite turn-off.”

“Yeah, there is literally _nothing_ sexual I could do to you with the suit that wouldn’t result in bodily harm. Either to you because again, no finesse, or to me when you transform out of pain and anger and tear me apart.”

“Ok, ok. Totally convinced now. You don’t need to sell me on this.”

~*~

He noticed after a few days that the crew was starting to string their names together.

“I just got a notification in from the UCL with a 30% match. Is that significant enough to be worth poking?”

“Ask Stark and Banner, they’d know.”

It made sense, now that they spent the bulk of their waking hours together in public view. And their sleeping hours, sight unseen.

They were in the lab, poring over results, talking a mile a minute with animated gesticulating, and nothing short of a force of nature would get their attention.

They were on the landing pad of the helicarrier, equipped with oxygen masks, testing the impact and range of the spear’s energy blasts, awed by the sheer power of the weapon, more than a little in awe of themselves for daring to try it.

Or they were going about life doing normal things as best they could in their circumstances. Early morning Tai Chi rituals, working their way slowly but steadily down the list of forms. Eating together, Tony trying to go as slow as he could so Bruce didn’t feel rushed or self-conscious. Debating the future of arc technology while wrapped in helicarrier-issue towels, sitting next to the high-efficiency washing machine where Bruce’s khakis and purple button-down spun with Tony’s jeans and t-shirts.

Every night Bruce was there, sharing his bed, and the two of them touched and sweated and came until they were tangled in a drowsy heap, sleeping until the five o’clock alarm when Bruce would steal on back to his assigned quarters.

Tony was not used to people who could deal with him in such high doses, much less someone who seemed to genuinely enjoy the experience.

Sometimes he would wander off for an hour or two, talk to the flight crew, study the helicarrier, exchange information and banter with Phil or Agent Hill. But he always came back in the end, always found his way back to the lab, and Bruce would look up from whatever he was doing and give him the same bright, gentle smile.

It was worth leaving just to get that smile when he returned.

Stark and Banner.

~*~

They also couldn’t help but notice they had a frequent black-clad red-haired shadow. She was calm, businesslike, and remarkably consistent, especially once their focus turned to the study of Loki’s weapon rather than spectroscopy.

“Whatever happened to Director Fury?” Tony remarked one afternoon after she’d come and gone for the third time that day. “Is he still onboard?”

“Hm. Can’t say I miss him much,” Bruce admitted. “He’s not exactly my favorite person.”

“I wonder how many of these ‘reports’ she’s gathering ever even make it back to him.”

“She’s…not my favorite person either.”

“Yeah, I can tell by the way you try to stand as far away from her as possible.”

“You know I have my reasons.”

“Bruce, you do know that she’s not coming in here just to keep tabs on you, right?”

He jerked his head up from his work. “Why else would she be here?”

“It’s this agent. Agent Clint Barton. Y’know, the one Loki made into his personal puppet. Apparently they’re close.”

Bruce frowned. “They’re a couple?”

He had to wait for Tony to stop snorting laughter before getting a reply.

“Sorry – it’s just _weird_ imagining Natasha dating… _anyone._ I mean, without killing them or turning them over to the authorities as her ultimate endgame.”

“’Natasha?’”

“Yeah, we have a history and – oh Bruce, not _that_ kind of history. God no. Don’t give me that face. Even I don’t get _that_ high off of risk.”

“Sorry. Just assumed.”

“No, she actually used to work for me – well, sort of, she was actually working for SHIELD getting intel on me, and this was meant to be a speech about how you should give her a chance but I realize now that it’s not off to a great start.”

“It sure isn’t,” Bruce said flatly.

“I mean she was just –“

“Really? ‘She was just following orders?’” Bruce gave a short, mirthless laugh. “You of all people, Tony, I didn’t expect that from.”

Tony flinched. “Bruce…I’m sorry. You’re right. Of course. I think what it is, we’re at very different phases of our relationship with Natasha – like, if she drew a gun on me it would feel more like a rite of passage at this point than anything else. Just another day with Nat. Swapping power plays is how we show affection.”

“Well, I’m grateful that’s not how you show affection with everybody.”

Tony checked both ways to make sure the area was clear, then gently backed Bruce up against the countertop. “So…who _is_ your favorite person, Dr. Banner?”

“Eh,” he answered, nonplussed, “just some over-privileged asshole who got thrown up here with me.”

“…yeah?” Tony nuzzled his neck.

“Yeah.” Bruce had a fight with his urge to smile and lost. “I probably wouldn’t even hang out with him except he’s got a really nice ass.”

~*~

“I hope you’re not using that to formulate any kind of a real understanding about humanity. Particularly human women.”

Thor continued rifling through pages. “I have spent more than a fair amount of time on your planet, Agent Romanoff. Enough to understand this kind of – gross caricature of culture when I see it. All the same, you can learn things about a planet’s people from this kind of material that simple conversation will never teach you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “If you’re basing your impression of human nature on an issue of Cosmopolitan, we’re all screwed. How long before the invasion?”

Thor gave her a stern look from behind the magazine’s covers. She shrugged. “Right, right – too soon. You want to see something really worth writing home about, check out this volley they have going. I’ve timed it at thirty seconds and counting.”

She gestured across the rec room to where Banner and Stark were engaged in an intense ping pong standoff.

“You play this game, Thor?”

He shook his head. “It seems a bit – delicate?”

That theory was quickly dispelled as Stark let out an inventive string of profanity.

“Hey,” Natasha called out to the pair, “Thor plays winner.”

Banner shot them a quick grin from across the room. “It’ll be an honor.”

“Shut your sassy fucking mouth, Banner.” Stark gestured violently with his paddle. “You have _tied_ us. You haven’t won yet.”

“Only a matter of time.”

“Oh, fucking _bring_ it, asshat.”

Thor set down the issue of Cosmo in favor of watching Banner’s ensuing serve and the volley that followed it.

“It is refreshing,” he mused, “seeing two people put such competitive energy into something with such low stakes.”

“Huh. It really is,” Natasha agreed.

Behind them, Rogers continued scrolling away on the public use terminal, apparently engrossed in whatever page he was visiting. He didn’t look up or so much as flinch when Stark let out a victory whoop.

“Oh, _that’s_ right. _Eat_ it, Banner.” He let the paddle clatter down on the table and shot both of his hands up, index fingers pointed in an “I’m-number-one” gesture. Banner’s response was to slowly advance on him across the room, calm, unnerving smile on his face, and then easily throw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Stark was too out of breath from shocked laughter to protest.

“Don’t take him anywhere, doc,” Natasha insisted. “Thor’s up.”

“Right,” Banner replied, and misstepped, sending himself and Stark hurtling down to the floor.

The question of whether or not they were ok froze on Natasha’s lips – they were laughing and poking at each other like a couple of misbehaving schoolkids. She turned to make a comment to Thor and saw him beaming at the pair like some kind of proud papa.

“Hey,” she said with a smirk, “what are you so smiley about?”

“Nothing,” Thor said quickly. “I’m just happy.”

Over at the terminal, Rogers seemed to be trying to use hunched shoulders as a blockade against the sounds of laughter, double-clicking much harder than necessary.

“Happy to have another chance to grind Stark into the dust,” Thor continued, raising his voice to call out the challenge and getting to his feet. He extended a hand to Stark and pulled him off the floor.

“Uh, might want to back out while you can,” Stark suggested, grinning at the Asgardian. “It’s gonna take you more than brute strength to win this one.”

Thor’s eyes flashed. “Just as you’ll need more than a suit of armor to hold your own.”

Banner and Natasha came in with unintentional unison on the _“oooooohh.”_ She laughed, and Banner looked down quickly but only after giving her a very, very small smile. He got back to his feet and stood behind the table with his arms crossed.

“Smoke him for me, Thor.”

Thor cracked his knuckles. “With pleasure.”

~*~

“This is _incredible._ ”

Bruce had managed to get a working model of the spear’s power source up and running so they could see what that, too, looked like at the molecular level. Bruce was completely entranced by it, and Tony was trying to focus…but Bruce was beautiful like this. The creases of worry were all smoothed out of his face and he seemed very, very young, almost childlike in his simple enthusiasm for new knowledge.

“There are components here like nothing ever seen on Earth. Elemental building blocks for which we have no name. I wonder if they do on Asgard? How awesome would that be, if we could talk to an Asgardian physicist?”

“Keep in mind that according to Thor, Loki may have gotten this off-planet,” Tony pointed out, “so it might not even be Asgardian. It could be from someplace we don’t even know exists yet. Sure wish we could get the little troll to spill.”

“Yeah – he’s the closest thing to a native physicist we’ve got, huh? I wouldn’t trust myself with him, though.” Bruce zoomed in with a swipe of the screen. “You know what’s _really_ interesting? I think this layer is some kind of encasing. There’s something else underneath.”

“You’re right.” Tony peered closer at the screen. “There’s a shadow here – it’s like trying to see through muddy water, but…”

“I wish we could break it open.”

“Yeah.” Tony grinned. “Even I can understand why that would be a terrible idea.”

“I know, I know. Too many unknowns.” Bruce gazed over to the scepter itself. “Even doing a deeper scan – like an x-ray – could be damaging to the power source at the least, extremely dangerous at the most. There’s no way to tell how these new materials would react to the radiation. But this-“ He tapped the scan on the monitor. “This gives me something I can work with. Molecular composition. Back to basics…even if these are molecules like nothing I’ve ever seen or even imagined.” He sighed and added, “I could spend _years_ on this,” and the way he said it implied that it would be a kind of earthly paradise.

It took him a few moments to realize that Tony was looking at him and not the scan. “…what?”

“You’re enjoying yourself.”

“Heh. Oops.”

“Well, why not? Make the most of it, right?”

“Sure, sure. Maybe the day’ll even come when I’ll thank Agent Romanoff for pointing that gun at me. _Maybe_.”

“Hey, I’ve been tempted to thank her myself.” Tony wrapped his right arm around Bruce’s shoulders and they looked on the data together in silence for a few moments.

“Tony,” Bruce said, breaking the quiet, “I need to get serious with you briefly.”

“Ok.” Tony extended his left hand and mimed flipping a switch. “Sarcasm engines powered down.”

“We’re lucky people here,” Bruce explained. “We’re standing on the edge of a new age, and we have the tech and – frankly – the smarts to dive over. Take the lead. Just this, here –“ he gestured to the spear again – “this little blue sphere, it means papers and breakthroughs and a whole new set of rules for how the universe works, and it’s just the tip of the iceberg. This is getting parts of my brain back up and running that I haven’t used in far too long. I can’t deny, I’m so, _so_ excited at the thought of being part of this. And of doing it with you.”

Tony squeezed his shoulder in appreciation, and Bruce, without a trace of self-consciousness, without bothering to check if anyone was watching, leaned his head against Tony’s arm and wrapped his own arm around his waist.

“It’s just…” He gave a hollow laugh. “My name is poison, Tony.”

Tony clunked his head against Bruce’s. “Not true. Your work is still _very_ highly regarded in the scientific community.”

“Sure. But that’s – that was from when I was Dr. Bruce Banner. You and I both know that’s not what people call me anymore.”

“Oh, Bruce, c’mon – maybe not right now, but if you put out work of this caliber? Give people a little more credit than that, they’d be-“

“I don’t want to argue about it,” Bruce insisted. “That’s not why I brought it up, to fish for compliments or support. I want to keep a low profile anyway, even once I move back stateside. I’m going to stay as quiet as SHIELD will possibly let me. Please, _please_ respect that, ok?”

Tony pursed his lips but nodded, mouthed “ok.”

“So what I’m asking from you is that you’ll use your name, instead. Because yours is the exact _opposite_ of poison. Take the credit. And don’t feel guilty about it.”

“Oh. Oh, Bruce, _no-_ “

“Please.”

“That’s not fair.” Tony took Bruce’s other shoulder with his left hand, turned Bruce to face him. “Doctor, you can’t ask me for this. You are a genius in ways that I will _never_ be. You _deserve fucking credit_ , so don’t give me your ‘please’ and don’t you dare do that thing with your face-“

“What thing, what thing with my face, what’re you-“

“You’re doing it _right now_ -“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“-with the serious eyes and the lip and it _wrecks_ me, Doctor, and you _know_ it-“

“No, I don’t know what – that’s a completely invalid data point you’ve got there, Stark.”

“- _fuck_ , just don’t ask me to do shit like this, Bruce, ok?”

“Tony,” Bruce sighed, and he rested his hands on Tony’s waist. “Credit really doesn’t matter, it just doesn’t, I don’t want the notoriety, you know? I really don’t. I just want the information to be out there, that’s what’s important – that you put the knowledge in people’s hands, give them a chance to use it.”

“…and you just said that completely unironically, like do you even hear yourself?”

“…wow, it did come out pretty corny, didn’t it?”

“That’s not even – _gah._ You’re just too goddamned selfless. I don’t know what to do with it. It freaks me out.”

Bruce gave him a sideways smile. “Phhht – selfless nothing. I expect you to make it up to me.”

“How?”

He leaned in until his forehead was touching Tony’s. “Two smart guys like us, I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

“Bruce – I-“ Every viable protest he could think of just died on his tongue. “I just really need to be kissing you now, ok?”

“So I did get a conclusive ‘yes’ out of you somewhere in there,” Bruce checked as they made their way to the closet. “Right?”

“Not on your life, Banner.”

“Hm. Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to fighting more about it. …Another day.”

~*~

He woke in what must have been the small hours, it couldn’t have been any later than two or three. He blinked a few times, confused, and then felt Bruce move behind him, rock-hard, arms wrapped tight around him, sighing against his shoulder.

“Did I wake you?” Bruce asked with a sheepish brush of nose on neck. “Sorry.”

Tony grinned in the half-light, running his hands along Bruce’s arms, squeezing him back. “Dr. Banner, you’re insatiable.”

Bruce blew warm laughter across his shoulders. “I’m sorry. Please go back to sleep, if you want.”

In response Tony took Bruce’s hand and guided it to his cock. “Do you want me?”

“Fuck. _Yes._ ” Bruce stroked him, pushing up tighter against him, and added so low he almost missed it – “Only always.”

Bruce’s palm and fingers were hot against him, stroking him fully hard, but even flexing and whimpering into that touch he could reflect that Bruce was once again being outrageously selfless, so obviously primed for it and yet focusing on Tony’s pleasure instead of his own. He slid gently out of those caresses and rolled over on top of Bruce, taking his mouth in a hard, slow kiss.

Bruce returned that kiss up into him and pulled him down, taking the full weight of Tony’s body, and Tony felt a sudden surge of gratitude for the superhuman strength that allowed Bruce to do that so comfortably because having every single inch of his front side pressed hard against Bruce from simple gravity felt so, _so_ good. He could feel the in and out of Bruce’s breath speeding up, arc reactor once again giving a signal boost to Bruce’s heartbeat until each pulse wracked through Tony’s entire frame. He felt the roll of muscle underneath him as Bruce thrust up against him, a pulsing brush of Bruce’s erection teasing against his own cock. Bruce worked a hand up Tony’s back and pulled his head down further still until their lips were crushed together, gave Tony’s tongue a soft nip and then sucked him in deep.

Tony kissed Bruce until he physically could not do it anymore, until it was either come up panting for air or pass out. He and Bruce let out simultaneous frantic gasps and laughed breathlessly at each other. Even through that laughter, though, Bruce was radiating this incredible _need,_ this complete and total desperation – it was tingling there in the heat of his skin, and his eyes, _God,_ the way he looked at Tony when they were like this, it was different from anything he was used to, raw and reverent and pleading. Sometimes it terrified him, because there was no way he could live up to whatever it was that Bruce saw when he looked at him like that.

Too much thinking, too much worrying – that kind of train of thought wasn’t going to get Bruce where Tony wanted him, moaning and shaking and too blissed out to speak or think or feel anything but wonderful. He left a trail of wet kisses along Bruce’s jawline and neck, and as he moved his head down he saw by the light emanating from him a perfect circle, a rosy indentation, right above Bruce’s sternum. The signature left by gravity and the ring of the arc reactor. It flooded his brain with a sudden rush of feeling, of protectiveness, possessiveness, even. He traced the full circumference of the mark with his tongue.

Bruce made a noise of appreciation and rocked up against him again, and it really was strange, the way the human mind worked, because the realization chose that moment to shoot across Tony’s thoughts –

_Maybe this isn’t about me._

Which was certainly an atypical Tony Stark thought.

But that need of Bruce’s, so clearly evidenced, that absolute craving for touches and kisses, for the feeling of getting lost in sensation – it was entirely possible it had nothing to do with Tony.

In Bruce’s line of work, or lack thereof, how many opportunities did he really have to touch someone like this?   …How many people would’ve let him, would’ve been receptive to those desires? It could be, it could very well be, that Tony had simply come along at the right time, that Bruce had been starving for this kind of contact and Tony had been the first to give it to him.

He could’ve been anyone.

And he thought to himself, _You know what?_

_That’s ok. No big deal._

_I’ll take it._

_This is enough._

He continued that trail of kisses over Bruce’s chest and belly, working his way down, down, until he could situate himself between Bruce’s legs and take his cock sudden and hard into his mouth.

Bruce gasped and stretched and cursed, curled his fists tight into the covers, and whispered Tony’s name.

_…yeah, this is more than good enough._

~*~

“Y’know, I wonder if the rest of the A-team gets bored up here.”

“How do you mean?” Bruce asked as they wound their way through the corridors back to the lab. He was still a little out of breath from another intense few rounds of ping pong. They’d found it was a good way to work off frustration (that they could also conveniently do in public), and Loki’s scepter had been particularly stubborn all morning.

“I mean, you can only play so much table tennis in one day. We have all this fun science to do, but what about poor Thor? What about Rogers? They must be going nuts after – has it been more than a week?”

“Exactly seven days,” Bruce said levelly as they came into the lab. “Thor seems to do ok. He and Rogers train together a lot. I think Rogers appreciates having an even match, it keeps him on his toes. Thor also spends hours talking to Loki. I can’t imagine what about.” He shrugged at Tony’s surprised look. “I pay attention to my surroundings. It’s a reflex.”

“Makes sense.”

“…ah. Whoops.”

“What is it?”

“Here I was showing off my perception stats to you, and I left my glasses in the rec room.”

“I’ll get them quick. Be right back.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said, letting him, because he didn’t like going anywhere public on the helicarrier alone – Tony had enough perception of his own to realize that.

He walked back to the rec room, now empty – the lights were motion-sensitive in one of the helicarrier’s many attempts to be energy-efficient, and they were all off. They flashed back on as Tony stepped into the room and spotted Bruce’s glasses on the small side table in the reading area. Then his heart gave a quick jump as he realized his original assumption had been wrong. The room wasn’t empty.

Rogers was at the public-use terminal, but he wasn’t looking at the screen. His head was buried in his hands and he was perfectly, almost unnaturally, still.

“You ok, Cap?” Tony called out to him as he crossed the room, more as a warning to Rogers that he wasn’t alone than because he wanted to start a conversation. Rogers started and moved his hand lightning-fast to minimize the browser window, but not before Tony caught sight of a field of text and a photograph – a stack of human corpses. A color photograph – not an incident, then, from Roger’s own timeline.

“I’m fine,” Rogers said tightly. It was a lie for the ages, no doubt about it, and Tony realized then what Rogers did all day, at least when he wasn’t training. He played catchup. And it was clearly starting to take a toll on him.

Tony picked Bruce’s glasses up with the full intention of leaving Cap be to sort his own shit out, but the words came fumbling out from some small part of himself that he didn’t squint at too closely out of the fear he’d find Howard Stark squinting back.

“Y’know, seventy years of history is a lot to process in a few short days. Even for a superhuman.”

Rogers cast a sidelong glance at him. “Just trying to get myself on the same page as the rest of the world.”

“There was some good stuff in there too. In case you haven’t come across it yet. Modern media tends to overemphasize the bad. Polio vaccine, that’s a good one. Civil Rights movements – works in progress, but also good.” He sat on the back of the armchair closest to the terminal, facing Rogers’ back. “And you won, by the way. Don’t know if anyone told you yet.”

Rogers spun his own chair to face him. “Fury let me know.”

“Fury. Right. He’s thoughtful like that.”

Rogers cracked a small smile as though it hurt him.

“You know, I’m really not sure which is worse,” he said. “How much things have changed, or how much is still the same.”

Tony let out an exaggerated exhale and let the weight of that sentiment hang over both of them. Then Rogers spoke again, so softly it was almost a whisper.

“I shouldn’t be alive.”

There were no hollow words of disagreement Tony could offer to that, because Rogers was right. He was a man entirely outside of his own time. Nevertheless it gave Tony a pang of sympathy for him, realizing that the uneasiness he felt around Rogers, that sense that something was wrong, was off – that was the way Rogers felt all of the time, looking in the mirror, just living and breathing.

“Almost everyone I know is dead,” Rogers continued. “Half of them were already working on it when I left. It seems like the least I could have done is had the decency to die with them. Instead of washing up here, where everyone’s turned so confused about the things that are worth fighting for. Worth dying for.”

Tony tried not to give any outward signals of how much he was squirming on the inside. He had a feeling Cap would’ve talked to anyone who happened to come along, that was the low point he was at, and it was just bad luck for both of them that it had happened to be Tony. It was frustrating if not downright confusing that he could so easily get along with a guy who could change into an otherworldly monster and yet offering anything resembling emotional support to someone so comparably human made him feel like running out of the room screaming.

“You know, you look like him.”

Oh, fuck.

“Sometimes you say something, or you laugh a certain way-“ Rogers gave a shaky laugh of his own. “For a minute I swear it’s him. Like there’s this instinctive part of my head that doesn’t know any better, you know? And then I remember.”

This was doing nothing to up his conversational comfort levels. Tony took a deep breath and said what was literally the only nice thing he could think of under the circumstances.

“He, uh, always spoke very highly of you.”

Rogers glanced up at him. Tony had enough imagination to think about how strange it must feel, in Rogers’s head. Hell, in the 1940’s Howard would have been at least twenty years younger than Tony was now. That meant that to Rogers, he looked like an older version of a friend long-since dead.

_I think my father may have been in love with you, Rogers._

He remembered vividly the moment he’d realized, when on the edge of becoming a teenager boys had turned just as hypnotic and fascinating as only girls were supposed to be, and the way his father talked about and remembered and downright obsessed over Captain America became a little bit more uncomfortably familiar and made a lot more sense.

“I think he, y’know missed you. Never really gave up hope that you were out there, somewhere.”

That had been the wrong thing to say – brought out deep lines of pain on Cap’s troubling young face. “But he found the Tesseract instead.”

Tony suspected that with Steve Rogers, there really wasn’t a right thing to say. The words all came out in the wrong century. “…yeah.”

Rogers rested his forehead on his closed fist, keeping his arm partially blocking his face as if it could protect him from some of what he was feeling. “It’s like everything else,” he said. “You’re so much like him. But also so…different."

 _Disappointing_. That was what he meant.

“It’s…it’s hard for me sometimes. Looking at you. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I know how that feels.”

God, he really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, and the look Rogers gave him twisted in like a knife. He had to get out, had to leave the room before any one of the poisonous things swirling around under the surface broke through.

_If looking at me makes you so miserable, maybe you shouldn’t dump your emotional fuckton of issues on me, Cap. Not unless you want to make this into a group share and hear all about what a shitty-ass parent your friend turned out to be._

And even through all that vitriol, the better parts of his human nature still said, _Jesus, this poor bastard._

He said something else, something incredibly generic, stiff upper lip, not taking on the weight of the world, etc. He didn’t even know what because he was bolting then, walking just under a run back out to the hallway with Bruce’s glasses in his hand and Rogers’ pained eyes following him until he was safe. Out of range. Running away back to the lab, where he could successfully play the good guy.

But in spite of his relief at returning, when Bruce gave him that usual smile, he really didn’t feel like he deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, ok, I'm back! Sorry for the delay, I was busy trying to earn an honest living and having Ultron feels. I will try to update more frequently after this, promise.
> 
> So like a lot of folks, I have mixed feelings about Avengers: Age of Ultron. If you're curious, you can read my full reaction by plonking this up in your address bar:
> 
> http://hellogaywatson.tumblr.com/post/119737214715/in-which-gay-watson-finally-collects-their
> 
> Long story short, from a continuity perspective there are some things I will light on fire and throw into a hole while laughing maniacally, and other things I think would be really, really fun to expand on. So we'll see if that ever happens. ; D
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Loki'd

“But it makes sense, right? As a conductor?”

“There’s no way to quantifiably prove that, though. At least not without his assistance, which I’m sure we won’t get.”

“But it could happen. Half the power’s already there in his head. The scepter just juices it up.”

“I think it’s a lot more likely that-”

“Hey, nerds,” Agent Romanoff greeted the pair of them, sporting her usual small, dry smile as she stepped into the lab. “What’s the good word?”

“Y’know, Agent,” Tony told her as he spun on his heels, “We’re both emotionally mature adults in here. We’re very in tune with our feelings. Wouldn’t you say so, doctor?”

“Um.”

“So you can stop pretending that Fury is making you check in on us every hour, and just admit that you’re worried about Agent Barton.”

“Maybe I will,” she said without breaking her smile, “the day you stop pretending you know my life.”

Tony winced. ” _Right._ Because having you more or less live under my nose for half a year doesn’t count _how_?”

“Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself, Stark.” She cast a glance at Loki’s spear, still ominously glowing as if it had all the time in the world. “The way you two are gabbing away in here, it certainly _sounds_ like progress. But I’ve been wrong on that front before…”

Tony pressed the palms of his hands together. “We have a theory-”

“ _Two_ theories,” Bruce corrected him.

“Right. We have a theory and also a slightly better theory. About how Loki managed to get control over Selvig and Barton.”

He had to give her credit, she didn’t even blink when he said the name. “Lay it on me.”

“Ok, so Loki himself has powers. We’re not really sure how that works, if it’s genetic, if it was somehow given to him on Jotunheim, whatever – but he can manipulate the minds of humans, Asgardians, presumably most life forms, to make them see whatever he wants them to see.”

“It comes across as shape-shifting,” Bruce added, not quite looking at Natasha, “but it’s really a form of mind control. Thor explained it to us. Loki can’t actually change his appearance, but to all intents and purposes, it _looks_ as if he can to those who are affected. He can also project copies of himself. Kind of like hologram technology, except it’s…organic. The ability is innate within Loki’s biology.”

Bruce still wouldn’t meet Natasha’s eyes, so she turned her incredulous gaze to Tony. He shrugged. “Aliens, am I right?”

“So what Tony thinks,” Bruce continued, stressing Tony’s name, “is that the scepter acts as a kind of lightning rod for the powers Loki already possesses. Gives them a boost, extends control from simple visual manipulation to complete mental dominance. The ability to change someone’s loyalty, for example.”

“But to the person controlled,” Tony interjected, “nothing seems different from normal. They don’t even realize anything has changed. Just like if you saw Loki in his antler getup, you wouldn’t realize most of it isn’t even actually there, that he’s just projecting it.”

Natasha nodded. “Ok.” She turned towards Bruce, careful not to look straight at him but still clearly addressing him. “And what’s your theory?”

“Fury said that the scepter is powered by the Tesseract.”

“Right.”

“Well, I think he’s wrong. The molecular composition of the stone in this-” gesturing to the spear “-is markedly different from NASA’s records of the cube.”

“Besides,” Tony cut in again, “this weapon has been powered up now for over a week, even after multiple uses. You can practically _feel_ the energy humming. The weapons created with Tesseract tech by Hydra in the 1940’s had to be recharged.”

“Right. So I think the scepter is a power source in and of itself, and that it’s the technology contained inside that’s capable of mental manipulation.”

“Mind control stick,” Tony added, poking himself in the chest with his index finger. “Touch and go.”

“You didn’t…try it,” Natasha asked slowly, as if she were a little afraid to get an answer. “Did you?”

Bruce exchanged a poignant glance with Tony.

“No.”

“Absolutely not,” Bruce said decisively.

“We _thought_ about it-”

“Argued about it-”

“At length-”

“In the end,” Bruce finished, “we realized there wasn’t a single person on this aircraft we could sacrifice to Loki’s control, not even for a minute. The risk was too high.”

“I mean, it could be that whoever wields the spear wields the control-”

“But we couldn’t risk it,” Bruce said firmly. Tony shrugged again.

“Anyway, Agent, you don’t care about any of this – you want to know if there’s a way to fix it.”

“That _is_ the point of the entire exercise,” Natasha pointed out. “To get our people back.”

“Well, there’s only so much we can find out with our limited resources up here. I mean, no offense to SHIELD but this is alien tech and you’re just not prepared with this level of equipment. Now if you wouldn’t mind me borrowing the good doctor here for a field trip to Stark Tower-”

But Bruce caught Tony’s eyes and gave the barest shake of his head. “Cognitive recalibration,” he told Natasha, mercifully moving the conversation along before she had to come up with an empty chain of reasoning for why Dr. Banner couldn’t leave the helicarrier. “If you can return the victim’s mind to the state it was in before being affected by the scepter, they should regain control of their mental faculties.”

“Unconsciousness, for example,” Tony summarized, knocking his palm against his head. “Knock ‘em out.”

“That’s all it would take?”

“It’s not like we could test it and see,” Tony admitted, “because _somebody_ didn’t want to try it.”

“Nope,” Bruce agreed unapologetically, pushing glasses back over his nose and turning to his monitor.

“But it would work for someone under the influence of Loki’s powers. So there’s at least a good chance it would work in this situation, too.”

Natasha nodded thoughtfully, arms crossed, making calculations behind her eyes. Tony didn’t envy Clint Barton when she caught up with him.

“It’s important to remember,” Bruce threw out from behind the screen, “that those who are controlled have no agency. They are absolutely _not_ themselves. So SHIELD shouldn’t charge them for anything they’ve done or may yet do under this control.” He threw aside a few charts and brought up new graphics with a couple of quick, nonchalant swipes, not even turning as he added, “It would be appreciated, Agent Romanoff, if you passed that on to your superiors.”

Tony searched frantically for something to do with his hands as the tension in the room shot up to cut-it-with-a-knife levels. He was surprised when all Natasha responded with was, “Thank you, Dr. Banner.” It was genuine, and warm – as warm as Natasha ever got, anyway.

“Thor will be happy to hear this too,” she added. “He’s very fond of Dr. Selvig.”

“Well, there you go, Agent Romanoff, something you can actually report on,” Tony concluded. “Should make everyone happy.”

“I’m sure it will,” she agreed, and left the lab. Tony sidled over to Bruce and looked over his shoulder at the screen.

“That was sweet.”

“Hm?”

“Your recent random act of kindness.”

“…well. It’s true – Barton and Selvig are innocent in this, so that’s how they should be treated.”

“Generous of you.”

“You think I want SHIELD to treat everyone the way they treat me?” Bruce shook his head. “I appreciate your little ploy to try and free me, though. Even if it was totally misplaced. You shouldn’t push your luck like that.”

“It’s so stupid,” Tony huffed. “They want results, don’t they? We could get _way_ more done on land than we can up here.”

“Well, Fury promised to let me loose once the Tesseract is back in his hands. Maybe he’ll even let me off for good behavior and wait a few days before having me tracked again.”

“They won’t have far to look. After this is over, _you_ ” – poking him in the ribs – “are _mine._ ” He went ahead and let the last word drip with entendre. Bruce swatted his hand away with a bemused sigh.

“I’m not entirely sure how easy SHIELD is going to make that for you.”

“They will have to pry you from my cold, dead hands, doctor.”

“Don’t say that too loud,” Bruce admonished, only half-joking. “They just might.”

“Nah,” Tony scoffed, backing off and leaving Bruce to focus. “I’m too valuable an asset.” He worked his way over to Loki’s spear, leaning over to stare into the power source once again, to try and make out the shape of whatever was inside. He swore that sometimes it seemed to move like some live thing, like an embryo in an eggshell. If he could only get this to his lab in New York, let Bruce and Jarvis have free reign over it – he let out a sharp exhale of frustration.

Then he took a deep breath in and everything went black.

~*~

“Stark. Stark!”

His eyes snapped wide open and his field of vision filled up with Natasha’s concerned face. He shook his head a few times in an involuntary shudder.

“What happened?” he asked as she helped him to his feet and into a chair. Bruce was standing back with a deeply furrowed brow, wringing his hands.

“You blacked out,” Natasha explained. “I heard him calling your name and I came running.”

Tony pressed two fingertips against his forehead and rubbed, hard. “I thought I saw…”

_Sudden and empty, billions of stars all around. Floating pieces of debris – a meteor? A fractured planet? And an impossible hunk of rock, suspended, seemingly immobile – impossible, because someone was there. Standing on it. It was far too small for gravity to have that kind of pull. Yet there they were._

_An inhuman face, turning to snarl at him through blood-red gums, sharpened teeth. Displeasured. Inconvenienced._

_Winding stairs, up and up and up into nothing…_

“Tony, do you have any kind of medical history of-”

“No,” he said in unison with Natasha, who shrugged unapologetically when he glared at her.

“It was that,” Tony insisted, stabbing a finger at the scepter. “I got…too close. Damn thing lashed out.”

“Lashed out – how?” Natasha asked. “Knocked you out?”

“There was no energy pulse,” Bruce told them, inching in a little closer. “Not even a sound, Tony. One moment you were standing there and the next you just – toppled.”

“I’m fine,” Tony reassured them, more for Bruce’s benefit. “It just spooked me, that’s it. Like getting a static zap from a metal doorknob.”

“That must have been a hell of a zap, Stark,” Natasha said. “Anything you want me to report to the Director?”

“Nah.” Tony got back on his feet and waved a hand in a don’t-even-worry-about-it gesture. “Like I said, I got too close to the power source. Makes sense it would have some kind of minor defense system – discourage touching. I’m ok, Agent,” he insisted when she narrowed her eyes. “ _Really_.”

“Ok,” she acquiesced, “but I want you to let us know right away if this happens again. I mean it.” Tony gave her a small salute of agreement.

Bruce watched Agent Romanoff’s back out of the corner of his eye as she left, waited a few moments to make sure she was out of earshot, and stared Tony down. “You’re aware that everyone in the room knew you were lying just now. Right?”

“Yeah-huh. Can’t slip anything by Natasha. Or you, apparently.”

Bruce sighed. “Tony. You have this look.”

“A look.”

“Yeah, and I’m not exactly sure what it means, but if I had to hazard a guess I’d say you’re preparing to do something phenomenally stupid.”

Tony gave Bruce his sweetest smile. “Good guess.”

~*~

“No.”

“Oh, come _on._ ”

“Absolutely not.”

“Phil.” Tony threw an arm over his shoulder and tried his best to exude brotherly love. “ _Phil._ We go way back, right? How many years have you known me? You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have a good reason.”

“You are not helping your case, you know that?”

“Fifteen minutes, that’s all I ask. What could possibly happen in fifteen minutes?”

“I’ll tell Director Fury you said that, once we’ve cleared out the broken remains of your body. Look, Stark, no doubt you’re out of practice hearing the word ‘no.’ Maybe you’ve forgotten what it means.” It really was amazing the way Phil could lay on the sass without so much as a twinge of change in facial expression. “So let me clear it up for you – I am not letting you anywhere near the cage, and I am _definitely_ not turning the security cameras off.”

“Ok. Ok.” Tony paced a little, tapping his fingers together. “Obviously you need me to sweeten the pot. Let’s say Portland immediately following Tesseract. I mean _immediately_.”

“Stark-”

“Like the _second_ we finish the mission and land-”

“Do you really not have anything better to do right now? Because the last time I checked there was an imminent threat of alien invasion and you still haven’t found the cube.”

“That’s _exactly_ my point, Phil. Dr. Banner and I have done everything we can to track the cube’s signature, and it’s nowhere to be found. For all we know, considering Asgard tech, Loki could have the signal blocked and we’re all fishing in the air. But we have the cube’s location, we have it right onboard. It’s in _his_ head. So what about _you_ , Agent? What’s keeping you from getting _your_ job done?”

Phil still had his tight-lipped little smile, but his eyes were frigid. “He says he doesn’t know where it is.”

“He’s lying. He’s _absolutely_ lying. _All the time._ It’s what he _does_ , Phil. And I guarantee the location of the Tesseract is only one of a truly impressive lineup of things he’s hiding from you. How far have you gotten? How many people have you sent in? Aggression, threats, manipulation, torture – how many answers has it gotten you, Phil, in a round number? Huh?”

“And what’s the tactic you’re going to employ that will change all that?”

“I’m going to speak his language.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“Oh come on, Phil, I left this one wide open for you.” Coulson quirked an eyebrow at him and he sighed. “Asshole? Drama King? Attention Whore-ese? Insert your favorite derogatory term for Tony Stark here?”

Phil pursed his lips and drummed the fingers of his right hand on his upper left arm, not meeting Tony’s eyes.

“You look deep in thought-”

“Yes. Hush.” He continued tapping fingers for another few beats then said _very_ carefully, “That might actually work.”

“Wait – really?”

“I send you in there, he might let something slip out of sheer irritation.”

Tony wrinkled his nose and scowled, preparing a comeback, but then realized – “You’re serious.”

Phil nodded. “Stark, when I find myself stuck, for lack of a better word, having to deal with you, there’s a question I always ask myself. You know what that is?”

“I…do not.”

“What would Pepper Potts do?”

“Oh. Yes. _Yes_.” Tony nodded emphatically. “That is an _excellent_ tactic for doing the sensible thing. One which I’ve employed myself in the past. From time to time. Maybe not _quite_ as often as I should,” he granted in response to a raised eyebrow from Phil.

“And if Ms. Potts were in my shoes…well, you were right, Stark. Nothing we’ve tried has worked on this guy, and we have been trying for a _week_. At this point we really can’t afford to be picky about our methods. So yes, if I were Ms. Potts, I would tell you to go for it. Congratulations,” he concluded bitterly, “on being the last refuge of the very desperate.

“ _But,_ ” he went on before Tony could congratulate himself too much, “I would also have the best person available on call for backup. And since, unfortunately for the both of us, she’s not here, it’s going to have to be me. So here’s the deal – you don’t go in there without security on you. But since I’m on shift right now anyway, the only security is me. I come running in if anything goes south. _And_ I guarantee that I’ll be the only one with access to this particular footage. Sound fair to you?”

“Hm. I don’t know, Phil. I think he’d be a lot more likely to spill with no cameras on him.”

“Just lie to him, then. Tell him security’s off. It’s almost true.”

“I can’t lie to him, he’ll _know._ A liar as good as he is would be able to smell it coming a mile away.”

Phil crossed his arms. “Look, I’m already dancing the edge of half a dozen company policies getting you in there at _all_. Whether or not you have backup is not up for negotiation. Either go in with security, or don’t go. Them’s the breaks.”

Tony thought for half a second and then extended a hand. “Deal.” Phil shook on it.

“I can easily give you fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty.” He took Tony by the arm and led him out of the room. “Come on.”

“What, now?”

“My relief is coming soon, Stark, so yes, now.”

They moved quickly down the hall. “You know,” Phil said, eyeing him up, “I’d feel a lot better about this if you had the suit.”

“Oh, uh-uh. No way. I am _not_ trying to start a dick measuring contest with this guy.”

“…hm. I suppose it would come across as a threat display, considering it’s what got him here in the first place.”

They reached a nondescript door, same as all the others along the corridor, and Phil entered a passcode and swiped his ID. Tony stopped him in the doorway.

“You’re probably going to hear some things, Agent. Things you didn’t know before. Spare me the lectures on withholding, ok?”

“Get me some real intel and then we can negotiate about lectures.” Phil gestured through the doorway. “He’s all yours. I’ll be back for you in fifteen to twenty. And Stark?”

Tony turned to face him. Phil sighed. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Then he shut the door behind him.

Tony ambled down the short flight of metal stairs and out onto the catwalk illuminated by the eerie glow of the glass concoction in the center of the room, keeping his strides casual to cover up the erratic thumping of his heart.

The man trapped inside the circular prison looked as pristine as he had the day he’d been locked in. Tony wondered how much illusion he was already being fed, if the toll of time and torture and sheer boredom was even now being edited out of his mind by whatever kind of power lived inside that head.

“I am not easily surprised,” Loki said with a welcoming smile that would’ve sent lesser men fleeing for their lives, “but I must admit that you are the last person I expected to see today.”

“That’s me, always full of surprises.”

“What kind of bribe did you have to offer to get them to let you in here, I wonder?” Loki paced a little closer to the wall of his cell. “You’re certainly not on the approved guest list.”

“Special permission. Up top.”

“Is that so?”

“Uh-huh, from your boss. Think I met him this morning. Ugly fucker? Big teeth? Deep space?”

The corners of Loki’s smile sharpened. “Someone’s been breathing too deeply. Playing with toys that aren’t his.”

“There’s a lot of that going around, way I hear,” Tony responded coolly even as his heart gave a victory leap. Only a few seconds in, and he’d already learned so many new things.

“Ah, didn’t you know? The Tesseract is of Asgard. It was only by Odin’s foolishness that it was lost here on Midgard long ago, in the midst of battle. It is no more _yours_ than my brother. Or me.”

“Big words from the guy in the box.”

“But after all, I’m merely borrowing the box,” Loki pointed out, and then something hovering between Tony’s brain and his retinas shimmered and _shifted_. He gasped and staggered back in spite of himself, because suddenly Bruce was looking at him from behind the glass, terrified, eyes pleading for help, palm pressed flat against the wall of the cell. Tony felt his face contort with pain and cursed himself for being such an easy play. Natasha would never have reacted like this. He needed to steel himself. But then Bruce’s face broke into a grin that was hideously misplaced on those features, and Tony’s entire body reacted in a heave of revulsion.

“I really underestimated you,” he told Loki.

“Is that so?” he purred, and Tony realized with a jolt that Loki’s powers didn’t just affect optical perception but audio as well, because he even _sounded_ like Bruce.

“Yeah. You’re _way_ more of a dick than I realized.”

That stolen voice formed a laugh that was too loud and rich to be mistaken for Bruce’s, but then the shift came again and Loki’s default setting was back – deep green traditional Asgardian finery, pale skin, dark hair, steely eyes. “So SHIELD sends in their armored knight, hoping against hope that he will succeed where they have so miserably failed.” He shook his head in mock sympathy. “They wail on and _on_ about their missing agent. Utter hypocrisy. What I have done to Barton and Selvig is _kind_ , compared to what SHIELD has so obviously done to you.”

“And what have you done to them?” Tony asked, then kicked himself internally – he was overcompensating for not rising to the bait with unnecessary bluntness.

“Opened their eyes!” Loki answered, his own eyes sparkling. “They are as free as they have ever been in their lives. Free of the responsibility of choice. Oh, you may get them back. But they will _crave_ the freedom I bestowed on them. They will miss it like a drug, haunted by its absence until their dying breath.

“But _you_ …what is your excuse? SHIELD has not cast some magic on you, that you should so willingly surrender your choice to them. I know who you are, Anthony Edward Stark. You are like my brother, one of the would-be defenders of this planet. You claim to serve Earth’s people, to protect them.” He made sudden, invasive eye contact with Tony, who did his best to gaze steadily back. No easy feat, especially since when Loki was in his regular form it involved looking up several inches. “In what currency, then, has SHIELD bought and paid for you?”

Still treading with care internally, Tony let his external features settle into a “well, duh” expression. “I’m looking at it. It’s pretty simple, really. You threatened Earth. I defend Earth. Ergo,” he extended his arms to the sides, “voila.”

Loki stared at him for a moment, then let out a short laugh of theatrical disbelief. “You really don’t know, do you?” When Tony didn’t dignify him with a response, he continued. “You don’t know what SHIELD’s plans for the Tesseract were before I took it off their hands.”

Tony shrugged. “My best guess is something less destructive than an alien invasion.”

“Oh, Stark. Your naivety is nothing short of unbearable. They truly have you, body and soul. A pity. Except…there is something left, isn’t there?” He narrowed his eyes at Tony. “Something they haven’t peeled away yet. Something uniquely yours. In fact, if you were honest with yourself – not exactly your strong suit, is it? – it’s the real reason you’re here right now.”

Tony gave an exaggerated sigh. “All right, I’ll play. What can I say? With a windup like that, I’m really curious, now.”

“Yes! Exactly!” Loki beamed at him. “ _Curiosity._ ” The shift came again, that weird tingling along his optic nerves, and then a massive wave of _shock_ that he only just managed to suppress, keeping his expression placid, non-reactive. The face looking back at him from behind the glass now was the one he saw in the mirror every day.

No, that wasn’t right – because a reflection wasn’t quite honest, turned left to right and vice versa. This was _him_ , in every detail, the way others saw him, the way he looked outside of the cave of his own skull.  

Loki-wearing-Tony took a step closer to the wall so that his breath nearly fogged it. “I’m not one of your automatons, or your suits of armor. You can’t control me. You don’t even know how to _begin_. And that drives you _wild_ , doesn’t it?” Christ, that _grin_ – did he ever look like that? No way. Couldn’t be. No one would ever trust him to buy or sell or even _stand_ next to them if he had. “You’ve got a scientist’s mind. Can’t resist poking at things, can you? Seeing how they work? What makes them tick?”

Tony had the same response as people always seemed to have when they heard their voice recorded – _Is that really what I sound like?_ – although it was twice as uncanny coming not from a speaker but from a human _NOT a human_ something _resembling_ a human that also happened to have his face. And God almighty, Loki really did have him nailed and not just in appearance, because he was entranced. Couldn’t look away, had to keep staring in endless horrified fascination, because he was, well, yes, curious, wanted to memorize what it felt like to be an observer instead of the – pilot? Also kind of wanted to hurl.

Loki _knew_ it, too, was reading Tony’s face like a map. “ _There_ he is. Got your attention now…just _look_ at you. _Mes_ merized. No, they haven’t bought you part and parcel _quite_ yet, have they?” He gave Tony a dirty smirk, pressed his palm against the glass again and leaned forward lazily. “That curious fascination, that intelligence, it’s not entirely normal, is it? Certainly not for a human. It sets you apart, I daresay. Leads you to seek stimulation in the more…exotic places. Perhaps that’s why you find such satisfaction rutting with a monster.”

And at that something deep down inside of Tony went _snap._

Because _how did you **know** , _how had that information reached him inside of that cell? – but more importantly **_oh no you fucking DIDN’T_ ** and there was suddenly nothing he wanted more than to see Loki in a pool of his own blood no matter _who_ he looked like at the time.

Deep breaths. Deep, angry, red-tinted breaths, and he took in Loki with his self-satisfied leer, wearing his face and saying those words with _his fucking voice_ and had a sudden epiphany.

“Takes one to know one, doesn’t it?”

Loki put a hand to his chest and made a sarcastic little fake-hurt noise that Tony found uncomfortably familiar – yeah, he’d definitely done _that_ before, it had seemed funnier from the inside. “Ah, Stark, of _course_ you are the first person ever to be creative enough to call me a monster-“

Tony made a placating gesture. “You misunderstand. What I was saying is, you recognize these things in me, this taste for the unique, um, like you said, the exotic, as a fellow…deviant. Am I right? I mean,” he gestured to indicate all of the duplicate standing on the other side of the glass, “you can’t tell me, this – power thing of yours, that you aren’t getting off on this.”

“And _you_ aren’t?” Loki tilted his head down, locked Tony’s gaze with his own brown eyes. “You expect me to believe you aren’t wondering even now how deep it goes? Do I feel the same? _…Taste_ the same?”

 _Jesus._  “Just how long has it been for you?”

Loki gave a low chuckle. “You know I could have anyone I wanted.”

Tony’s body gave another reflexive heave and he tried to play it off as laughter of his own, even as his hindbrain was concocting fantasies of getting his hands on Loki and just beating the everloving _shit_ out of him.

“Right, sure – but of their own free will?”

“Ah, _always_ with the free will _,_ ” Loki sighed. “You people are certainly attached to the concept.”

“Oh, come _on_ , now. You can’t tell me it doesn’t make a difference. Even for you. When was the last time somebody _wanted_ you? I mean _really_ wanted you?”

The corner of Loki’s mouth twitched in condescension, but his eyes stayed locked on Tony’s. “Stark, are you coming on to me?”

An explosive laugh burst out of Tony before he could think twice about it. It was – the sheer ludicrousness of everything, everything in front of him and behind him – his entire life for the past week, really, aliens and energy and the uselessness of trying to pick sides when every choice is terrible. “Well,” he said, catching his breath, “what can I say? I’m just _curious,_ ” and something vindictive twisted and churned in him, made him slam his arm against the cell over Loki and lean in so the only thing separating their faces was a few inches of glass and air. Loki’s borrowed eyes went all round with interest.

“How long has it been since somebody _begged_ you for it?” Tony asked, keeping his voice low and velvet-soft, trampling back the anger. “No magic, no prompting, just _had_ to have you, _immediately_. When was the last time you could feel that, taste that, in someone’s pulse? In the way their hands move over you, the sounds they make? The way every fiber of their being just _pleads_ for you?”

The form before him flickered, and with a self-deprecating sigh Loki appeared for the first time as himself, disheveled, exhausted, with the look of someone who hadn’t had quite enough to eat for an extended length of time. His eyes were tired but deeply amused, almost catlike, eyeing Tony like some fascinating plaything.

“You can’t knock free will,” Tony concluded, “until you’ve tried it. Tasted it for yourself. Until someone’s shown you how amazing it feels to be wanted, _needed_ , without any kind of pretense.”

Loki blinked slowly. “Are you offering?”

Tony smirked at him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Not half as much as _you_ would,” Loki told him, voice silky-smooth. “I was walking this universe long before you even began to dream. I could show you _incredible_ things.”

“Wait, are you hooking me with the classic villain ploy?” Tony asked, shifting his weight. “You know, ‘Join me and together we will be stronger than either of us could ever be alone’?”

“Heavens, no. That would be just too boring for _words_.” Loki let loose the full-on smile, and _shit_ , he didn’t need his so-called magic to intimidate or seduce with a built-in power like that. “Why would I turn aside such delectable antagonism? Especially when it’s offered…freely?”

Tony laughed, shared that private joke, and his breath actually did fog up the surface. “Do you want _me_?” he asked, and Loki gave a sharp little intake of breath.

“I had thought we were past subtlety by now, Stark.”

“…ah. Well, you got me completely right, I gotta admit. I am intrigued as _hell_.” He was so close his lips were almost touching the glass, and Loki was drinking in every word. ”I’d _love_ to see what you could show me, Loki Laufeyson, to take you apart to the root, figure out _exactly_ what makes you whir. You’re a scientist’s fucking _dream_ , aren’t you? And you’d _enjoy_ that, wouldn’t you, you’d love to have me spread you out, investigate until you didn’t have a single secret left.” Loki’s lips were parted ever so slightly, his own breath fogging the glass on his side of the wall, eyes still glued to Tony’s, and Tony leaned in hard and let all the anger he’d been holding back build up in his voice. “But it’s never going to happen. Not here, and not like this. Because in spite of what you may think? _I. Don’t. Fuck. Monsters.”_

For the briefest of moments Loki’s features clouded with sheer blind rage and Tony felt an enormous sense of satisfaction. If he’d had a mic, he would have dropped it.

Then Loki brought his guard back up, smoothed out his appearance in Tony’s mind’s eye. He gave Tony an appraising look which settled gently into a smile of – not fondness, certainly, but _respect._

“I truly, deeply hate you, Anthony Stark,” he said congenially.

“Right back at you, pal.”

“I think your fall is going to be something special. Dazzling and special. Custom fit just for you.”

“You could at least buy me a drink first,” Tony retorted as the door behind him opened and he remembered with a terrible sinking feeling that Phil Coulson existed.

Tony barreled out of the door without even daring to look at him, talking at full speed. “Right, so that could have gone better but let’s review. Based on that conversation and an experience I had this morning Loki was using the scepter as a communication device. Connecting to the life form you might call his supervisor. Like a two-way radio, and I caught an accidental whiff of it. So that might be something we can use, to find out more about who he’s working for, who gave him this extra power in the first place. Also we have it straight from the horse’s mouth that we can get Barton and Selvig back. Although they may experience some nasty side effects and oh God Phil please just say something.” He winced and finally turned to look at the agent, didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried that Phil’s eyes were dancing with amusement.

“Wow, Stark, you weren’t kidding about withholding.”

He had a half a dozen quick, sharp responses on the edge of his tongue so it was a downright embarrassment when all that came out was, “Please, _please_ don’t tell Fury about this.”

“About what?” Phil said, radiating innocence. “Because letting a non-agent and known volatile element in to speak with the captive would be downright irresponsible. It doesn’t sound like something I would do.”

Tony opened his mouth and then shut it again.

“So. Portland.” Now it was Phil’s turn to throw a friendly arm around _his_ shoulder. “Immediately following Tesseract. Isn’t that right?”

“…that is…absolutely right.”

“You know,” Phil said gently after they’d walked the hallways in silence for a few moments, “I already suspected. So the confirmation wasn’t a huge shock for me.”

“Suspected? …honestly, Phil, after that conversation you’re going to have to be a little bit more specific.”

“I came into the lab one day unannounced,” Phil explained, “and you were both extremely ruffled. Moreso than labwork could account for. Also all of Banner’s shirt buttons were off by one.”

Tony gave him a look that teetered between impressed and horrified and Phil shrugged. “I was trained to notice everything. You’re just lucky Ms. Potts and I communicate on a semi-regular basis, and that I have a basic running definition of ‘polyamory’. Otherwise I would be going against professional courtesy and, as the expression goes, chewing you a new one. Several.” He shrugged again. “As it is, it’s kind of adorable.”

“Adorable.”

“Sure. If you didn’t really care about him, you wouldn’t have gone off like that in there.”

Tony huffed a sigh. “I gave you a lot of shit for not finding out the location of the cube from him. Now I get it.”

“Yeah, he knows how to throw you off, doesn’t he? Honestly, Stark, even that little conversation was more productive than some of the ones he and I have had.”

He could just imagine. “I’m sorry. This was kind of a waste of time. For both of us.”

“Nah. To me, at least, it was worth it.”

“Why, to see me get embarrassed?”

“No,” Coulson said, with an uncharacteristically dark smile. “To see that bastard get taken down a peg.”

~*~

He didn’t intend to stop in the lab on the way back to his room. That was just where his feet and his subconscious took him.

The lights flickered on, revealing cold empty space and quiet equipment. No blips or beeps, no scans running. He made his way over to his computer, which he didn’t bother moving anymore – he’d used it so often for work the last few days that it didn’t make sense to detach it and carry it back with him every time.

“Hey Jarvis?”

“Good evening, sir.”

“You’re still in on the mainframe, right? Security still looking as shoddy as it was the day we came in?”

“Exceptionally so, considering the nature of the organization. Although, not seeing things from your vantage point, no doubt they think their security is up to date. An understandable error.”

Tony took a long breath in, let it out slow.

_You’re being played, my friend._

But if you _know_ you’re being played, that takes some of the impact off, right? Like, it’s still a semi-intelligent decision to pursue the information if you’re pretty sure even without goading that the information is there to find?

Obviously, _obviously_ , it was in Loki’s best interest to sow discord. The more antagonism the passengers of the helicarrier had for each other, the easier things would be for him, whatever the hell it was he was trying to do.

And yet.

Images put in his head over the past few days kept reoccuring, wouldn’t leave him alone – images of Loki, yes, _You really don’t know, do you? –_ but also of Fury, the levels of unspoken concern there, and most pervasive of all, the image of Bruce in a hovel in Calcutta with a SHIELD gun in his face.

So really, the unbelievable thing wasn’t that he was about to do this – it was that he hadn’t done it a whole lot sooner.

“Run decryption.”

“How deep, sir?”

“As deep as it goes. I want everything.”

“Very good.” The screen flashed, running schematics. “You should have complete results in approximately twelve hours.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

“Incidentally, Dr. Banner is already waiting for you in your quarters. He asked that I let you know if you came back to the lab.”

Huh. That was a first. Completely derailed all his previous trains of thought, especially when he considered the various states of undress in which Dr. Banner might be waiting for him.

Sure enough, when he opened his door Bruce was sitting cross-legged on his bed without a stitch on him.

“Ok, first of all, _intense_ approval, second of all, how did you even get in here?”

Bruce cocked an eyebrow at him. “Tony, you do know these doors don’t actually lock?”

“Indeed,” Jarvis chimed in. “The only private quarters onboard the vessel with locking doors belong to high-ranking SHIELD agents and the director.”

“We’ve been talking,” Bruce told Tony as if to explain Jarvis’ unusual verbosity.

“You have? Huh – Jarvis isn’t usually chatty with new acquaintances.”

“I am still running your original protocols, sir. Would you prefer to set new ones?”

“Uh…I got nothing. You’re gonna have to remind me.”

“I am currently able to engage in direct conversation with any person you’ve had more than two sexual encounters with.”

“…Oh. Wow. I, uh, kind of forgot about that one.”

Bruce snorted laughter. “More than two? Seriously, Tony?”

“Look, at the time of life I input that set of commands it made a lot more sense.”

“Would you prefer to set new protocols, sir?”

“You know what?” Tony grinned at Bruce. “The originals seem to be working fine so far. I say keep ‘em. So…what have you been chatting _about_ , pray tell?”

Bruce waved his hands in consolation. “ _Strictly_ business.”

“Not to worry, sir,” Jarvis added. “In order to disclose any of your personal information I still need your express permission, regardless of your relationship with the person requesting the data. Dr. Banner and I have merely been discussing my programming.”

“I was going to be waiting all seductive for you,” Bruce said apologetically, “but I got caught up in the conversation.”

“So you get naked and then get distracted talking code with my AI and you think that’s _not_ seductive?”

“You understand how big of a deal this is, right?” Bruce asked, waving his hands across the room to indicate Jarvis-at-large. “Not to mention how freaking _cool_ this is? Jarvis is the most responsive AI I’ve ever interacted with. I mean, that’s a _huge_ understatement. He’s basically a human. Human code. I’d go on the stand and declare personhood for him right now if I could.”

“You hear that, Jarvis? Dr. Banner thinks you’re _people_.”

“I make no move to dispute it, sir.”

“You should be nicer to him,” Bruce insisted. “The singularity is coming.”

“When that day arrives, Dr. Banner, I will remember your thoughtfulness.”

“He makes jokes,” Bruce said in disbelief. “He makes _jokes_. Self-referential humor. He’s amazing and you _built_ him and you’re both so incredible I can hardly stand it.”

“Bruce,” Tony said in gentle warning. He got down on his knees next to him on the bed. “You’re gushing.”

“So sue me. This is gush-worthy.”

“I know how you feel.” He tilted Bruce’s head up with a few fingers under his chin and kissed him. “This is what you do to me every time you start talking about molecular components and particle physics.” He kissed Bruce again, a little longer and deeper. “I can do the math. You can explain why the math even _works._ Do you have any idea how hot that is?”

Bruce hummed and kissed him back, then stopped abruptly and gave the room the side-eye. “Jarvis?”

“Yes, Dr. Banner?”

“You don’t… _watch_ , do you?”

“As an entity without a physical body I admit I have little interest,” Jarvis replied as Tony hid a snicker behind his hand. “And I only record visual and audio when prompted.” Bruce’s eyes widened and he gave Tony a very pointed look.

“I didn’t,” he insisted. “I didn’t! _Jesus_ , Bruce, I would’ve _asked._ That being said,” he added as Bruce shook his head and leaned back in, “give us some space, J, ok?”

Bruce’s lips parted against his mouth and Tony licked into him, supported Bruce’s head with his hand and lowered him down, kissing him right into the mattress. Bruce hummed again and took his full weight, raked his nails down Tony’s back with enough pressure that even through his t-shirt had him groaning.

“So,” Bruce gasped once they broke apart, “they let you in, huh?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“You just kissed me like you were trying to get a bad taste out of your mouth.”

“Christ.  Yeah, I talked to him. And I feel like I need a long shower.” He shuddered. “Or church. Or maybe a shower _in_ church. Just dip me in holy water, cut out the middle man.”

“Did you get anywhere?”

“Not even close. It was mostly a lot of mutual taunting.”

“Oh, wonderful. _That’ll_ help ease tensions.”

“You don’t understand, you’ve never spoken with him. He…does things to you. Says things. Gets in your head.”

Bruce grinned up at him, a little feral. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to be formally introduced.” He brushed a feathery kiss onto Tony’s neck. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” Tony shut his eyes, stretched his neck back, let Bruce have more territory to explore. “Just pissed off.” Bruce took the spot just below Tony’s ear between his teeth, and he shuddered. “And…”

“And?”

“…he did that thing. You know. Changed the way he looked. Made me see what he wanted me to see. It’s…very realistic.”

Bruce backed off, suddenly all concern. “Tony – “

“I mean, he was just fucking around. Just being a little prick. Nothing hardcore. But…he made himself look like me. For just a few minutes.”

Bruce gave his shoulders a squeeze, not pushing him, waiting to see if he wanted to continue.

“It’s…it was really messed up.” He made a sound between a sigh and a laugh. “But…also exciting. I – fuck. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m still trying to shake it off.”

Bruce searched out his features, rubbed a thumb over his cheek. “Does Tony Stark have fantasies about going at it with himself?”

“Hah. Well, if you asked any media source…but no, it was more like…I wondered how it felt. To be you. To be on the other side. Y’know, when we’re…”

“Together?” Bruce finished.

“Yeah…”

“You want to know how it feels, to be in my skin when we’re touching? What it’s like to be with you, to make you come?” Tony made a soft, needy noise and clutched at Bruce’s upper arms, placed a short kiss on his mouth. “Wow. Tony, I-” Bruce let out a sad, breathy laugh. “I don’t think I could ever explain it. I don’t…that’s interesting.”

“What is?”

“It’s just…an interesting thing to want.”

Tony smiled down at him. “Coming from you, ‘interesting,’ that’s like, the ultimate compliment.”

“Yeah,” Bruce laughed. “It’s fascinating. I’m just thinking…”

“I know,” Tony told him, tapping his finger to Bruce’s forehead. “I can see it.”

Bruce ran his hands over Tony’s back in silence for a few seconds. “Ok. I have an idea. I’m not sure, though. It might be really stupid.”

“Bruce. You are not _capable_ of stupid.” He put a finger to Bruce’s lips before he could argue, and rocked his hips down against him. “I am your willing participant. Experiment away.”

“ _God_ ,” Bruce gasped. “Clothes, first. Clothes are unacceptable.” He dug his fingers into Tony’s lower back. “Strip. Get naked for me. Please.”

“You ask so politely, how could I possibly refuse?”

Tony sat up and straddled Bruce’s waist, grabbed the bottom hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up and off. Bruce lay flat, chest expanding slightly with each breath, eyes glued to Tony as he got to his knees and unzipped his pants with theatrical slowness. He hooked his thumbs over the edge of his boxers and inched them down with his pants until his cock sprang free. Bruce cast an appreciative glance and then looked back into his face, slow smile spreading from one corner of his mouth to the other. He slid out from between Tony’s legs and sat up as Tony worked his way out of his pants, kissed Tony just above the navel.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, getting to his feet, offering Tony his hands.

Tony grinned at him and let Bruce pull him up. “You know I do.”

“Close your eyes.”

Bruce kept ahold of his hands and walked him carefully across the room. He felt the tile of the bathroom floor against his feet and furrowed his brow in question. “Keep them shut,” Bruce whispered, halting him, moving around to the other side of him and wrapping his arms around his waist to help him keep his balance. He brought his lips to Tony’s neck, starting with more feather-light kisses, but he was getting braver and more confident because suddenly his kisses turned to full-on bites, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make Tony’s voice catch in his throat as he tilted his head back.

Bruce’s cock nuzzled against his thighs as he slid a hand back to Tony’s ass and squeezed. More bites, all along his neck and his jawline, down onto his shoulders. The hand doing the squeezing took his hip back again as he wobbled a little, gasping at a hard nip against his collarbone. That same hand came forward, sliding over his belly, through his hair, stroking his cock, and Tony whimpered and thrust into that touch, wanting Bruce to take him harder –

“Open them,” Bruce said, and Tony was face to face with his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, cheeks flushed, pupils blown, mouth open, chest heaving a little, trembling all over – and there was Bruce next to him, looking over Tony’s shoulder at the reflection of his eyes, one arm wrapped around his waist and one hand wrapped around his cock, still brushing light strokes against him, winding him up.

“This is how you look to me,” Bruce told him, voice shaking. “You see how amazing you are like this?”

Tony couldn’t answer, hoped Bruce understood how he felt from the curve of his mouth and the smell of his sweat as that hand tightened around his cock. He had to watch, had to take in the glow of their skin side by side, the rolling of muscles as Bruce jerked him off. He was thrusting too hard and too fast and went dry far too quickly, but Bruce brought that hand up to his mouth, obviously trying to be as obscene as he could with that one simple gesture, all tongue and spit and wetness and looking Tony’s reflection right in the eye the whole time, and when that hand came back wet to Tony’s cock he almost sobbed. The sweet relief of it, and the heat, and the pleasure, and God, there were so, _so_ many more things he’d be willing to let Bruce do to him, and then Bruce’s other arm shot out to grab a towel only just in time because one more pull and he exploded, sudden whiteout, every corner of his mind crashing down as he came and came, and when he went limp in Bruce’s arms his only regret was that his eyes had shut of their own volition and he still didn’t know what his orgasm face looked like.

But Bruce did.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he choked, holding Tony up as the aftershocks raked through him. “Do you understand? Tony, you’re – you’re so fucking beautiful it hurts. And you feel – you feel like heaven.”

“Bruce,” Tony whispered, over and over, until he got his footing back, until he could stand up steady and pull Bruce in and kiss him and walk him back across the room. “Bruce,” he said again, “you don’t know heaven yet,” and he fell back across the bed and brought Bruce down with him.

~*~

The shaking woke Tony up. Bruce spasmed off and on in his sleep, but this was different – he was shaking hard in a steady, unceasing rhythm, and his breathing had turned erratic and ragged. Tony grabbed him by the shoulder and squeezed, just enough so he’d feel it on the other side of sleep.

“Bruce? You ok?”

Bruce’s eyes shot wide open, and they were bright, bright green, glowing a little in the darkness, and he _yelled_ , the shout of someone who’s just had a bad jump scare. But then he didn’t stop – kept shouting in short, agonized bursts of fear.

“Bruce! Bruce, you’re ok, you were dreaming – it’s just me.”

“Ah, _fuck_.” Bruce crushed his hand against his forehead, and his eyes were _flickering_ now – blink brown blink green. Blink blink brown again.

“You’re ok, Bruce. You’re safe. You’re ok.”

“Tony – breathe with me – “

“Ok, ok, breathe – how?”

“Put your hands – here.” Bruce grabbed his hands and set them on his own shoulders. “Just breathe – really deep – in – through your nose and – and then out through your mouth – “

“Ok, ok buddy, easy enough, right?”

He scooted closer so he could touch his forehead to Bruce’s and took a deep breath.

_In…Out. In…Out._

Bruce struggled against his shallow breathing and fought to match Tony’s rhythm.

_In…Out._

Slowly, smoothly, the tension flowed out of Bruce’s muscles, although he still shook a little. His eyes held their color.

“Thanks,” he said weakly. “That’s a good thing to do, ok? If I’m ever close like that. Remind me to breathe.”

“Oh – yeah – any time you need it. Just ask.”

“It works better with someone else.” Bruce rolled over gently, easing his back into the curve of Tony’s body. “Tony? …please hold onto me. Hard.”

Tony wrapped his arms around Bruce and held him as hard as he dared.

“You ok?”

“Not usually.”

Silence hung over both of them.

“Were you afraid?” Bruce spoke into the darkness, voice hardly even a whisper.

“…yes.” Tony squeezed tighter, ever so slightly. “But honestly? Not as much as I thought I would be.”

“…I could kill you.”

Silence again.

“If I transformed. Easily. Without notice. Without noticing.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you here?”

Tony thought for a moment before answering. “That’s…that’d be a pretty long answer, Bruce. In full. But the short version is so that you have someone to breathe with.”

A tremor ran through Bruce, and Tony couldn’t tell if it was a laugh, or a shudder, or a sob. He wouldn’t have asked for anything in the world. Instead he lifted his right hand and stroked Bruce’s hair.

“…Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s it like to fly?”

“It’s-” He sighed. “Wow. It’s amazing. Second best feeling in the world.”

“What’s the best?”

Tony nuzzled his nose into Bruce’s neck. “You should know.”

“Hah. Right.”

“And it’s terrifying. Flying. Like half the rush comes from the feeling that you’ll plummet out of the sky at any second. But it’s worth it. Absolutely, completely worth it.”

“Tony – I worry sometimes that you have a – a danger thing – “

“Oh, Bruce, anyone who’s known me for outside of sixty seconds will tell you, truthfully, that I have ‘a danger thing.’”

“No, I know, I mean…I worry about it because…maybe that’s why…”

“…oh. Oh, hey now. Look, I see where you’re going with this, and – don’t. Just don’t.”

“And why not, exactly?”

“I – listen. I have a serious Dr. Bruce Banner thing. And it is – an _entirely_ separate thing. It is.”

“Why?”

“Why – what? Why is it separate?”

“No, why…why is it…?”

“Bruce. Look at me.” Bruce rolled back over to face Tony. “Bruce. You are funny and smart and – _gorgeous_ , and I feel lucky just to get to be around you. God, do you not get how much I like you? How much I _want_ you? ‘Cause I feel like I’ve been pretty straightforward about this by now, honestly. I – I like _you_ , Bruce. _You_.” He poked his finger against Bruce’s sternum. “Everything else, it’s just extra. Interesting, maybe, yes, I want to understand it as badly as you do, but when it comes to this,” indicating the pair of them, “to friendship and fucking and sharing space like this - it’s _really_ not important. Ok?”

Bruce flicked his tongue across his lips, a gesture Tony recognized as indicating he was at a total loss for words.

“And another thing,” Tony added, while he was on a roll, “You smell really, _really_ good. All. The. Time. Doesn’t matter what you’ve been doing, how long it’s been since you’ve showered, just, _all_ the time. Which is like its own superpower-”

Bruce kissed him instead of speaking, and after that neither one of them spoke for a long time.


	8. Separated

It was the first time that being in the same room with Bruce was driving him nuts. Which considering they’d been working together for nine days wasn’t too bad of a track record.

Still though. It started with the pacing. Bruce had apparently lost his ability to hold still overnight. No matter what he was doing, reading, scanning, even talking to Tony, he was constantly. Moving. Then the pacing turned into a sort of awkward side-shuffle, and then he started doing the worried hand tapping but _didn’t stop_ and finally Tony slammed his computer down against the counter and shot a glare at Bruce.

“What. Is. Wrong.”

Bruce glanced up at him. “Hm?”

Tony strode across the lab and took Bruce’s upper arms firmly in his hands by way of encouraging him to stay in one place. “You have been in a state of perpetual motion ever since I came in here and your nervous energy is making me go slowly mad.”

“Oh. Huh. Sorry, I did not even notice.”

“What’s eating you?” Tony asked straight into Bruce’s face. “And don’t say it’s nothing, please don’t play it off, because I should warn you in all fairness that I’m in an inexplicably shitty mood and not particularly keen on being lied to.”

“Yikes, ok. No sidestepping. I get it.” Bruce shrugged gently out of the hold Tony had on him. “What’s wrong? Well...I’m surprised you have to ask. Can’t you feel it?”

“Let’s assume that I can’t.”

“Really? I mean, I know I have extra dots in perception but still, today I can practically _smell_ it.”

“Bruce, I’ve been trying to make clear that I don’t have patience in high supply right now-”

“Tension,” Bruce responded quickly. “The tension on this boat today is through the roof. Just eating breakfast this morning, the temperament in there, I could feel it. I mean…it’s reasonable? It’s been nine days now. Nine long days up in the air, and no real results, no Tesseract. People are tired of waiting. They’re going to start casting some long looks at the people responsible.”

Tony made a face of exaggerated thoughtfulness, pointed to himself, then to Bruce. “Uh-oh.”

“Mark my words, Tony, shit is going down today,” Bruce foretold. “And my chief goal is to be out of the room when it does.”

Like the fulfillment of a dark prophecy, Rogers chose that moment to burst into the lab in full Cap regalia. Tony resisted the compulsion to salute.

“Is it true? You figured out how Loki’s weapon works?”

“Hey Steve,” Bruce greeted him as Tony turned back to his computer and busied himself with looking extremely involved in something that didn’t involve talking to Rogers. “Yes, it’s true – in a manner of speaking. We know that we can return Selvig and Barton to normal fairly easily, although it may take them a few days to adjust back to reality. So I gotta ask, what’s with the, uh-“ He gestured up and down Rogers to indicate his choice of clothing.

Rogers shrugged. “My laundry’s in,” he said easily. Bruce raised his eyebrows and nodded. It made sense that Rogers wasn’t inclined to just sit around in a towel, or just sit around in _any_ circumstances. “So does it work like Fury thought, is it powered by the Tesseract the same way HYDRA’s weapons were?”

“I think I can safely say ‘no.’ There’s too many important differences…”

Tony half-listened as Bruce explained their findings to Rogers, keeping the corner of his eye on their posturing. Rogers didn’t even look at Tony – hadn’t attempted so much as a “hello” or eye contact, in fact, in the better part of two or three days. Which suited Tony just fine.

Rogers was easy with Bruce, though, even though he saw Bruce as a threat – that much was clear from how he’d behaved after Tony had zapped Bruce, all those days ago now. But maybe that had been a gut-punch reaction to the potential of Bruce rather than the reality, because now Rogers was listening attentively and asking the right kinds of questions. Bruce in turn kept his vocabulary on the layman side of things, answered in a voice that was calm and receptive; he didn’t try to make himself small or close himself off the way he did with Natasha. After all Bruce and Rogers had more in common than their outward _or_ inward appearances could show. Tony wondered briefly if Cap’s heart beat the same crazy tempo as Bruce’s, and he realized suddenly that without Captain America there would _be_ no Bruce Banner, at least not as stood in the lab with him now. Certainly there would be no Hulk.

Whether that was a good or a bad thing, Tony knew perfectly well it was not his place to say.

“If I may, sir, I have an update on the project you asked me about yesterday.”

“The hell,” Rogers said, looking around the lab, more interested than startled.

“That’s Jarvis,” Bruce explained. “Tony’s, uh – he’s an artificial intelligence. A program. Tony, which project is that? I don’t remember hearing you two talking about it.”

“A program?” Rogers asked. “Like a guidance system?”

“Sort of. Um.” Jarvis had picked up on Rogers presence and kept his language protocols purposefully vague. “Lay it on me, J. No coding necessary, we got no secrets here.” He remembered Rogers’ initial reaction to his suggestion that he air SHIELD’s dirty laundry – _you could do that?_ – how obvious it had been that he wanted to know what was really going on in spite of his soldierly tendencies. Tony was curious (and damn if he’d ever think of that word the same way again) as to how Rogers would react to whatever it was that Jarvis had found.

Plus he kind of felt like he owed Cap… _something_. Anything. It was yet another feeling he didn’t look at too closely, because its origins were dubious at best and had more to do with a certain Howard than he cared to admit.

“As you wish, sir.”

“…he programmed his guidance system to call him ‘sir’?”

“Decryption is nearly complete, but I believe the mainframe has caught on to me.”

“Decryption, what decryption?” Bruce asked.

Rogers gave him his full attention for the first time since he’d entered the room. “Stark, you didn’t.”

“In all likelihood the SHIELD staff onboard will be able to trace the decryption back to the source in the next ten minutes.”

“…you _didn’t._ ”

Tony gave him a grim smile. “I’m afraid I did.”

“Tony, what’s going on?” Bruce asked slowly, as if he were dreading the answer.

“Last night I asked Jarvis to get me in touch with every single file on SHIELD’s servers,” he explained. “In a matter of minutes we’re going to know every dirty little secret they’ve been trying to hide.”

Bruce had every right to be frustrated with him, but instead he looked surprised, then satisfied. “Good. What kept you?”

“I don’t really know. False sense of security, maybe? But our friend from Asgard broke that yesterday.”

Rogers eyed him warily. “I got a bad feeling you aren’t talking about Thor. Damn it, Stark, you picked a hell of a time to do this.”

“Meaning what?”

“Can’t you feel it?” Rogers paced restlessly. “Everybody’s tense today. They’ve been cooped up too long with not enough results and they’re running out of patience.”

“Told you,” Bruce shot to Tony with a smirk.

“Thought you wanted to be out of the room for this.”

Bruce gestured to Tony’s computer. “And miss this, are you kidding? You in, Steve?”

Rogers gave the monitor an intense glance. “How long?”

“How long, J?”

“Seven minutes with an error margin of three to five minutes for full file retrieval.”

“And until an agent shows up in here to slap us on the wrist?”

“I couldn’t say, sir, but not long.”

Rogers continued pacing, then snapped his fingers as if he’d remembered something or made a decision. “You two start without me. I need to check – I could be wrong but-” He backed out of the lab. “I’ll be back.”

Bruce joined Tony at his monitor, waited until the stripes on Rogers’ back had vanished down the hall before giving him a quick, fierce kiss. “You beautiful warrior of justice, you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

“Why the hell not? Ever since you teased you might do this that first day I’ve been _hoping._ ”

“You should’ve said, I would’ve done it sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Bruce, I – I was kind of hoping to sift through it before throwing you in up to the neck.”

“Too late now,” Bruce said, and the expression on his face was vengeful and terrifying and more than a little delicious.

They waited, side by side, rendered completely useless for any kind of work, until finally Jarvis’ voice filled the room again –

“Decryption complete.”

Tony’s screen and the lab’s main monitor filled up with file title after file title.

“Shit,” Tony hissed. Bruce shot across the room to his workstation and crammed his glasses onto his face.

“Over here.” He gestured to the clear monitor. “Easier to see.” Tony joined him, hopped up onto the countertop and sat with his legs crossed. He lifted a finger and started scrolling, letting out a long, soft breath. Files in the triple digits. Bruce peered over his shoulder, pinching his lips between his fingers.

“Where do we even start?”

“With specifics. We don’t have much time. Jarvis, narrow down results to include keyword Tesseract.”

“Certainly.”

That got them down to the double digits, at least. Tony swiped past initial diagrams, NASA files, familiar territory. “Here we go. Look at this.” He tapped a nail against the screen. “Phase 2. And again. And here. Phase 2, Phase 2.”

“Open one,” Bruce breathed behind him. He looked closer, checked the dates, swiped open the most recent –

“What are you doing, Mr. Stark?”

Oh, wow. Director Fury himself. What an honor.

“Uh, kind of been wondering the same thing about you.”

“You’re supposed to be locating the Tesseract,” Fury reminded them in a tone befitting his name.

Bruce slid his glasses off and palmed them, gently crossed his hands. “We are,” he informed the Director fearlessly. “The model’s locked and we’re sweeping for the signature now.” He pointed to indicate the monitor towards the back of the lab that they’d designated early on for the trace. “When we get a hit, we’ll have the location within half a mile.”

“Yeah, then you’ll get your cube back,” Tony added, made fearless himself by Bruce’s presence. “No muss, no fuss…what is Phase 2?”

There was a sudden loud _slam_ of metal on metal as Rogers reappeared and presented what looked like a sci-fi movie prop gun, some kind of unlikely laser cannon. “Phase 2 is SHIELD uses the cube to make weapons. Sorry,” he added with nod to Tony and Bruce, “computer was moving a little slow for me.” Tony understood then – it was a HYDRA artifact, one of the weapons originally powered by the Tesseract that Rogers kept referencing. And he had apparently found it sitting pretty somewhere onboard the helicarrier.

“Rogers,” Fury placated, “we gathered everything related to the Tesseract. This does not mean that we’re making-”

“I’m sorry, Nick,” Tony spoke over him, sliding off the counter and spinning the monitor around to face Fury and Rogers. “What were you lying?”

The monitor displayed detailed blueprints for what anyone with half a brain could have easily been able to identify as a missile of massive destructive capacity. Even Rogers didn’t need any technological hand-holding to understand what it was he was seeing. “I was wrong, Director,” he told Fury bitterly, referencing some previous conversation Tony hadn’t been privy to as Thor and Natasha strode into the lab looking like two people on a mission. “The world hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Did you know about this?” Bruce asked, and with a start Tony realized he was speaking directly to Natasha – no unease, no backshuffling.

“You want to think about removing yourself from this environment, doctor?” she replied, gentle but firm.

“I was in Calcutta,” Bruce pointed out with a small laugh Tony recognized as a very clear danger signal. “I was pretty well removed.”

“Loki is manipulating you,” she told Bruce, stepping towards him.

“And you’ve been doing what, exactly?” he shot back.

“You didn’t come here because I bat my eyelashes at you.”

“Yes, and I’m not leaving because suddenly you get a little twitchy. I’d like to know,” thrusting his hand with glasses tightly clenched against the blueprints, “why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction.” He cast a bold glance over Natasha and Fury, daring them to answer.

“Because of him,” Fury finally said, extending an arm without looking to point sharply at Thor.

“Me?” Thor stuttered.

“Last year,” Fury explained, “Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone but we are hopelessly, _hilariously_ outgunned.”

“My people want nothing but peace with your planet,” Thor insisted.

“But you’re not the only people out there, are you?” Fury countered. “And you’re not the only threat. The world’s filling up with people who can’t be matched, that can’t be controlled.”

 _Yeah,_ Tony thought, _and you’re looking at three of them._

“Like you controlled the cube?” Rogers pointed out wryly.

Thor advanced on Fury. “Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies. It is a signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war.”

“A higher form?” Rogers cried.

“You forced our hand,” Fury argued. “We had to come up with something.”

“A nuclear deterrent,” Tony spoke over him again, the full weight of the files’ implications beginning to settle heavy over him. “Because that always calms everything right down.”

Of course. Of _course_ it was weaponization, that was always what it boiled down to in the end. He’d been suspicious from the second Phil handed him a holo of a simple little blue cube. He and Pepper knew all too well, running SI, that for a whole lot of people power wasn’t worth mentioning unless you could use it as a weapon. But that never ended well, no matter what the justifications, God, that was why he didn’t _do_ this shit anymore, and it _really_ didn’t help when the next thing out of Fury’s mouth was, “Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark.”

Rogers jumped in directly after. “I’m sure if he still made weapons, Stark would be neck-deep-”

 _Oh fuck you, Rogers, you think Dad never - ?_ “Wait, wait, hold on, how is this now about me?”

“I’m sorry,” Rogers derided, “isn’t everything?”

“I thought humans were more evolved than this,” Thor scoffed from across the room.

“ _Excuse_ me,” Fury huffed back, “did we come to _your_ planet and blow stuff up?”

“You treat your champions with such mistrust.”

“You are not my _champions!_ ” Fury exclaimed, even as Natasha eyed Thor and stated simply, “Are you boys really that naïve? SHIELD monitors potential threats.”

_Don’t they just, Agent Romanoff._

“Captain America’s on threat watch?” Bruce asked in disbelief.

“We all are,” Natasha assured him, and her use of _we_ spoke volumes.

“Wait, you’re on that list?” Tony tossed at Rogers, who had been jibing away at him under his breath as the others talked. It was hard to picture Natasha or any other agent camped out on the lawn of America’s Golden Boy. How much trouble could he have gotten into during the very short time he’d been defrosted? “Are you above or below angry bees?”

“Stark, so help me God, if you make one more wisecrack-”

“Threat!” he shouted, trying to draw in some attention because everyone was talking at once and he couldn’t keep track of what was being said and besides Rogers was _really_ starting to get on his nerves. “Verbal threat. I feel threatened.”

“Show some respect,” Rogers sneered, and across the table he was pretty sure that amidst more talk of Loki and plots he heard Thor threatening to take Bruce out. “Respect what?” Tony said vaguely, learning glance by glance what Bruce looked like when he started getting genuinely agitated, and that was information he hadn’t wanted, not today, not in this room which what with the bodies and the egos and all the yelling was getting more crowded by the second.

Thor’s voice cut through the babble, lashing at Fury, belittling him – “You speak of control, yet you court chaos.”

“That’s his M.O., isn’t it?” came Bruce’s voice, and Fury and Tony’s heads jerked in unison to focus on him. “I mean, what are we, a team? No no no, we’re a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We’re-” He suddenly seemed to realize that his anger was coming out in his face, adopted a sweet, diffusing little smile that made Tony’s insides twist. “We’re a time bomb.”

“You need to step away,” Fury ordered, attention fixed firmly on Bruce, and Tony prayed to anything listening that he be suddenly blessed with telepathy so he could tell Bruce to _stop talking just for now, just for now, do not dig yourself in any deeper, ok?_ And when it was clear that his prayer wasn’t going to be answered anywhere close to fast enough, he scanned the lab for something, anything, to take the attention off of Bruce – and his eyes landed on Rogers. They would, wouldn’t they? He was the brightest-colored thing in the room, and besides, fate had clearly laid out that Rogers was never going to run out of reasons to hate him. Might as well give him a few more to add to the pile.

“Why shouldn’t the guy let off a little steam?” Tony ventured, clapping an insulting hand on Rogers’ shoulder. And he’d been right, so right – Rogers _hated_ it, didn’t even hesitate before shoving him off.

“You know damn well why. Back off!”

“Oh, I’m starting to want you to make me.”

“Yeah. Big man in a suit of armor.” Rogers started circling him, and the eyes of the rest of the room were glued on the pair of them now, thank God it really had been that easy. “Take that off, what are you?”

“Genius billionaire playboy philanthropist,” Tony answered effortlessly, and even with the stress levels in the lab so high he was gratified to see Natasha give the barest little shrug of her head as if to say, _well, he’s got a point there._

“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you,” Rogers informed him. “I’ve seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.”

Ah.  There it was. Captain America was the ultimate soldier, and with that came the military obsession with sacrifice that always squicked Tony out, that he found misplaced and frankly nauseating. Even Rhodey – he loved Rhodey to death but they’d had some truly dazzling arguments over it. For Rogers, it was apparently a breaking point, and to be fair there wasn’t a whole lot else left for him, was there? He’d tried so hard, laid his life down for his country, and even that hadn’t gone right. He’d lost everything. No wonder he was in such a hurry to do it again, try to make it work this time.

But Tony – well, he was right about Tony, and maybe Rogers would hate him forever because of it and that was just the way it was going to have to be. Because these military meatheads got so caught up in the glory and the nobility that they never thought sacrifice through, never considered the people left behind that didn’t _ask_ you to die for them, didn’t _want_ you to, only wanted to see you come home in one piece – “I think I would just _cut_ the wire,” he told Rogers, and with that each knew where the other stood, and not an inch to budge on either side.

“Always a way out.” Rogers glanced away, processing, then smiled at him with the assurance of a man secure on his moral high ground. “You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“A hero? Like you? You’re a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a _bottle_.”

He could’ve heard a pin drop. Every person in the room was stunned into absolute silence, shocked that it had been said – himself included. But with a jolt he realized he’d meant it, every word.

Rogers was no longer smiling. “Put on the suit,” he said. “Let’s go a few rounds.” And he meant it, too.

The rich, hearty sound of Thor’s laughter cut through the tension. “You people are so petty,” he observed. “…And tiny.”

“Yeah, this is a team,” Bruce muttered, and Tony rubbed his hand over his face, willing Bruce with all his might to shut up.

“Agent Romanoff,” Fury began, “would you escort Dr. Banner back to his-”

“Where?” Bruce wanted to know. “You rented my room.”

 _Shit._  Now he could probably clock Rogers right in the face and nobody would notice. Maybe not even Rogers himself. Since distraction was no longer an option, Tony found himself questioning whether or not he’d flat-out try to take Director Fury down if he had to and discovered the answer was an irrevocable _yes_.

“The cell was just in case-” Fury explained, or began to, but it just wasn’t his day for getting to finish sentences.

“In case you needed to kill me. But you can’t. I know. I tried.”

...weight.

Descending sudden and heavy on his chest, a very specific and targeted increase of gravity, as the world started to shake (or no. Probably just him. With the shaking.)

Long, hard silence, real or imagined? – it didn’t matter, nothing did, nobody else mattered – it was all just Bruce and the few feet stretching out in front of him into thousands of miles.

“I got low. I didn’t see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth, and the Other Guy spit it out.”

And the flashbulbs going through his head were so bright, so _loud_ , surely everyone else could peer between his ears and see them? – Bruce half-smiling and letting out that rusty transmitter of a laugh, Bruce naked on his back, keening and shivering under Tony’s mouth and hands, Bruce’s eyes and hope and despair and _need_ and he’d actually thought this was enough, that it made a difference, that he could kiss it better and everything would be fine.

_God I’m an idiot so stupid such a blind senseless fucking idiot_

“So I moved on. I focused on helping other people. I was good. Until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk.” Oh God, that was anger, that was the pure unadulterated stuff boiling up to the surface. Bruce’s gaze bored into Natasha, his mouth curved in a small smile that was frankly terrifying. “You want to know my secret, Agent Romanoff? You want to know how I stay calm?”

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Fury’s hand moving to the gun at his hip, pushing back the strap that kept it in place, and Tony felt his own hands tense at his sides as he wished desperately for a suit.

“Dr. Banner,” Rogers spoke gently, as if calming a wild animal. Bruce’s head snapped to him. “Put down the scepter.”

Bruce turned his gaze, slow and fearful, to Loki’s weapon grasped tight in his fist. He gave a small, shuddering shake of his head as if that could somehow bring back the memory of how the scepter had gotten there. The room held its collective breath.

Then came the most beautiful sound in the universe, the insistent mechanical chirp he and Bruce had been waiting to hear for so long, absolute proof of a loving God.

“Got it.” The words in Tony’s mouth felt like a sigh of relief.

Bruce set the scepter down with a soft _clunk_ and all but bolted to the monitor in the back of the lab, Natasha close on his heels. “Sorry kids, you don’t get to see my party trick after all.”

“You located the Tesseract?” Thor asked, as if he too could hardly believe their good luck.

“I could get there fastest,” Tony insisted.

“The Tesseract belongs on Asgard,” Thor reminded them. “No human is a match for it.”

“You’re not going alone.” Rogers extended a hand to his arm.

He slapped it away in irritation. “You’re gonna stop me?”

“Put on the suit, let’s find out.”

 _Seriously, I do not fucking have time for –_ “I’m not afraid to hit an old man.”

“Put on the suit.”

He was about to explain to Rogers in intimate detail just what kind of dead weight he would be when Bruce’s voice came quiet and horrified from the scanning monitor.

“…oh my God.”

And then the world erupted.

He was dimly aware of the sound of breaking glass as a wave of incredible heat engulfed him and he and Rogers were knocked off their feet with breathtaking force. He tried to sit up, pained, disoriented, peering through air thick with smoke.

Rogers looked over at him, eyes wide. “Put on the suit,” Tony heard him say, dead serious, over the ringing in his ears.

“Yeah,” he agreed breathlessly, dragging himself to his feet, Rogers’ strong hands supporting him and helping him out into the corridor. He moved as quickly as his dazed body would allow, trying to match Rogers’ strides, to get out near the bridge. He slipped his hand into his pocket as he ran, pulled out his phone and set the radio signal to the helicarrier frequency.

“Hill!” came Fury’s urgent voice.

“External detonation,” he heard her report. “Number three engine is down!”

He and Rogers continued to jog down corridors filled with frenzied agents, many of them armed to the teeth – which meant _shit_ , they’d been boarded. Some kind of hostile force, Loki’s people, and questions like _how many_ and _where_ waited alongside the adrenaline rush and an absolutely staggering pile of emotional responses to the past fifteen minutes that he firmly directed to the back of the line. _NOT NOW. Work to do._

Hill’s voice came again, frantic across the radio. “Somebody’s got to get outside and patch that engine!”

“Stark,” Fury gasped, “you copy that?”

“I’m on it.” He gave his head a quick couple of shakes and reoriented himself with where they were on the helicarrier, and was relieved to notice familiar scenery. He took the lead, slipping past Rogers to make a few sharp turns and bring them into the alcove where he’d stored the Mark VI over a week ago. “Engine three,” he told Rogers. “I’ll meet you there.” Rogers gave him a nod and took off, and Tony turned his attention to the swipes and taps necessary to open the wall panels and power up the suit. The Mark VI hummed, greeting him like an old friend.

He danced his fingers over the screen in one final command, then set the phone down in the alcove so it wouldn’t get crushed in his pocket. The suit opened up with the click and slide of dozens of well-oiled hinges. Tony stepped back carefully, aligning legs, arms, torso, head. “Jarvis, you with me?”

“All systems go, sir. Battery life one hundred percent.”

“Let’s do this.”

He held perfectly still and let the suit close around him. It was a tight fit – the suit wasn’t designed to be worn over anything as loose and baggy as street clothes – but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He was plunged into darkness for a few seconds before the front panels opened and the heads-up display came to life with a warm glow.

“Ok, first thing’s first,” he thought out loud, walking down the hallway with light, careful steps. “We need to find the fastest way out of here so we can get to the – whoa.” Opening a door that had previously led into one of many service corridors, he wobbled to a stop on the few feet of catwalk still remaining. Everything else was gone, blown away by the explosion. “That’ll work.” He gave the flick of his wrists that engaged the repulsors at flight setting and glided down and out into the open air.

“Jarvis, set radio to receive SHIELD’s signal.” Rogers had been wearing an earpiece, presumably given to him by SHIELD, in Stuttgart. With any luck he still had it on him.

The helicarrier was a mess. Whatever kind of explosive Loki’s team had used had ripped the blast area to shreds, exposing supports and hallways to the empty sky. Agents would come later to tend the fires, but with everyone focused on keeping the craft in the air and combating Loki’s forces the flames were free to lap at the edges of silicone and alloy, and the air was filled with roiling black smoke.

“Stark!” Rogers voice came, tinny in his ears. “Stark, I’m here!”

“Good.” Tony zoomed around the wreckage, found Rogers’ red, white, and blue outline. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

As he came up level with the casing around engine three’s turbine, Jarvis was already kicking it into high gear, analyzing the damage and modeling the area to run possible solutions. “I’ve got to get this superconducting cooling system back online before I can access the rotors, work on dislodging the debris,” Tony muttered out loud, mostly for his own benefit. He gave a hunk of splintered metal a rudimentary shove, then pointed Rogers toward the controls. “I need you to get to that engine control panel and tell me which relays are in overload position.”

He watched Rogers execute a truly awe-inspiring leap closer to the panel before turning back and yanking at the ragged chunks of helicarrier standing between him and the engine, inching piece by piece closer to the turbine itself. “What does it look like in there?” he asked once he thought he’d given Rogers enough time to get to the controls and pull them out.  

“It seems to run on some form of electricity,” Rogers replied with palpable sarcasm.

Tony smirked in spite of himself. “Well, you’re not wrong.” Continuing to clear debris and throwing aside any pieces that weren’t important, he gently guided Rogers through what he needed to do, reflecting dimly that keeping his language within Rogers’ sphere of understanding was way more difficult than the manual labor of working his way into the heart of the engine. Once Rogers’ silence seemed indicative of focus rather than confusion, Tony fired the palm repulsors to clear aside the last and worst of the junk and found himself, finally, face to face with turbine blades.

“Ok, the relays are intact,” Rogers told him. “What’s our next move?”

“Even if I clear the rotors, this thing won’t reengage without a jump. I’m going to have to get in there and push.”

“Well, if that thing gets up to speed, you’ll get shredded.”

“That stator control unit can reverse the polarity long enough to disengage maglev and that could-”

“Speak English!” Rogers pleaded.

Tony took a mental deep breath. “See that red lever?” he said, with an effort. “It’ll slow the rotors down long enough for me to get out. Stand by it. Wait for my word.” He took Rogers’ answering silence as an indication of his compliance.

“We’ve got a perimeter breach,” a voice he didn’t recognize – one of the host of agents – reported over the radio. “Hostiles are in SHIELD gear. Callouts at every junction.” Tony frowned, reminded himself this was where he needed to be, and hoped for the best. Battery levels were still doing fine. He fired up the lasers to deal with the worst of the debris, lodged between the rotors –  

“We have the Hulk and Thor on research level four.”

\- and froze.

 _Oh shit. Oh SHIT._ Loki had gotten what he wanted, and there was absolutely fuck all he could do about it sitting in the middle of a turbine. All he could do was try to keep them in the air.

 _This is where I need to be_. He repeated it to himself like a mantra as the laser sliced into the hunk of metal. _Nobody else can do this. Gotta finish it._ He jumped down onto the debris, and the full weight of the suit knocked it loose.

_I hope that doesn’t land anywhere important._

Nothing to be done about it. There was a time and place for finesse.

“Engine one is now in shut-down.”

…and this definitely wasn’t it.

The helicarrier gave a sickening cohesive _creak_ and began tipping, its massive bulk sinking in a slow but certain descent.

“Sir, we’ve lost all power in engine one.”

“It’s Barton,” Tony heard Fury say. “He took out our systems. He’s headed for the detention level. Does anybody copy?”

“This is Agent Romanoff. …I copy.”

_Go get him, Nat._

Fury’s voice addressed him directly as he situated himself against one of the rotor blades. “Stark, we’re losing altitude.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” With his palms flat against the blade in front of him, Tony fired up the boot repulsors at the setting he normally used for flying, realized it wasn’t anywhere near enough, and amped up the power. The battery was draining like crazy but with a dazzlingly awful series of screeches the rotors began to turn.

The speed increased, and in order to keep up he had to start burning even more power. With each spin the rotor moved faster, faster, until the engine casing and the sky above and below were a blur. Tony let out a yell, gritted his teeth against the sheer force of motion as the rotor got back up to working speed and the aircraft began to steady out. He waited, just a _little_ longer, watching the battery drain…just a few more seconds and…

“Cap, hit the lever.”

“I need a minute here!” Rogers shouted.

Tony didn’t know or care what had held Rogers back – waiting was not an option at this point. “Lever! Now!”

The drop in speed didn’t come. Instead he watched in horror as the blade in front of him floated away from his hands, and felt the bump of the blade behind him coming up to meet him.

“Uh-oh.”

The spin of the rotor pulled him in and used his body in a clear demonstration of the laws of physics.

“Help!” he shouted into the radio, to Rogers, to _anyone_ , before the battering of the rotors and the incessant scrapes and squeaks of metal on metal drowned out his power of speech.

_Please please please don’t let this be how I die_

And then the blessed sudden slowdown, just enough for him to shoot out from between the blades with his battery blinking away at two percent. Tony made a beeline for the helicarrier, for the nearest entrance he could find, and his visual cortex wrote him an equation of _Cap + hostile + gun_ just in time for him to aim and barrel straight into the armored man shooting at Rogers, knocking him cold against the floor.

Tony wasn’t sure if the impact had killed the man or not and couldn’t bring himself to care much one way or the other. The Mark VI gave up the ghost and his heads-up went dark. He brought his hands up to tug the helmet off and lay slack against the floor, sucking in air.

Rogers, also breathing hard, cast him a significant look before lending him an arm to help him up, and with silent, nervous laughter they ambled their way back towards the bridge.

Without warning, the radio came to life again. Fury’s voice, with an edge to it that Tony had never heard before. “Agent Coulson is down.”

He and Rogers froze in their tracks.

“A medical team is on its way to your location,” another agent’s voice reassured.

“They’re here,” Fury said.

There was a long, heavy silence, punctuated only by the sound of Rogers’ breathing.

“…they called it.”

Rogers let out a slow exhale behind him. Tony stared at a spot on the floor, a mark where the ash from someone’s boot had stuck, and thought, _But that doesn’t make sense._

Phil was competent and confident and frankly a damn good shot and if Tony wasn’t in pieces between turbine blades right now then there was no way that Agent Phil Coulson was dead, either.

He shed his exoskeleton and left it there in the hallway, standing empty and alone, and moved in quick steps that broke into a run. Certain parts of his nervous system were trying to communicate that running hurt, a lot, but he wasn’t all that interested. Cap’s footfalls thudded dimly behind him.

He burst through a final door onto the bridge and the place was a mess, broken screens and broken agents and blood, just a lot more blood than he’d been expecting. He did a scan for intelligent life and his eyes fell heavy on Maria Hill, although it took some time recognizing her because Maria Hill usually didn’t look that blank and empty.

“What happened.” It wasn’t so much a question as a demand.

“Loki,” said Maria Hill’s voice. “Agent Coulson went straight for the cell when we were attacked. Tried to keep him from getting away.”

Tony’s brain, in an incredible feat of neural chemistry, was able to use that information to pass on the following things: 1) Loki had escaped. 2) Phil Coulson was actually dead. 3) Everyone onboard was a colossal failure as a human being.

“Thor tried to stop him, too,” she continued, the dull monotone of her voice as she reported facts a clear indication that her emotions were busy elsewhere. “But Loki was able to get him into the cell, and then drop it.”

Could a god survive that? Probably. Almost definitely. If Hulk could survive it, and he’d said that he would –

He’d said –

“Where’s Banner.”

He shot his gaze around the room, at the wounded and the shaken, and nobody would look at him. Except for one.

“Where is he, Maria.”

“He transformed-”

“I know he did. _Where is he._ ”

“He fell. He…he transformed, and we had to take decisive action. We used one of the jets. Fired as a distraction, so he wouldn’t tear the place apart.”

Something in his face was causing a reaction in her, was breaking down the dam that kept feeling out of her voice.

“We didn’t know what else to do. It – it got his attention. He attacked the jet directly. Just launched himself at it, tore it out of the sky, went down with it.”

Moisture collected in the corner of her right eye, leaked out and trailed across her cheek.

“He’s gone, Tony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue taken from the 2012 Avengers script by Joss Whedon extends from "What are you doing, Mr. Stark?" to "...they called it" with a few minor additions.


	9. Assisted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I submit this chapter as quantifiable evidence that I CAN write short things, if I've a mind to.

The first thing was consciousness. Sunlight against eyelids. Faint stirrings of a breeze on skin. Discomfort – hard edges digging into legs, arms, back, butt.

The second thing was thinking, articulating to the self, constructing sentences again, in English, to process surroundings and feelings.

_Shit._

_I’m not dead. Again._

_Wait…isn’t there a good reason, this time? For not being dead?_

_Something good. Can’t remember._

_It’ll come to me._

“You fell out of the sky.”

_I did…I…_

There were sharp, angry pictures buried shallow in his brain. Metal and fire and bullets. He groaned and rubbed his hand over his face as the return to consciousness started to embrace him full-on, the exhaustion, the hunger. The unease of his own skin, everything feeling close and tight, over-compacted.

 _Not alone_.

He turned intently to stare at the source of the words, to register threat or threatened. There was someone standing on the edge of the, well, _crater_ was inarguably the right word to use. He imagined, fleetingly, going back to the time in his life when waking up (coming to?) in craters was still a foreign experience.

There were bricks, in the rubble. That explained the discomfort, all those sharp corners pressing into what was now soft if not particularly vulnerable flesh. There were also support beams and chunks of concrete. But no organic matter. No bodies. Just his own.

His eyes and mind teamed up and went to work instinctively cataloging features. The voice from the edge above him had come from an elderly man, somewhere in his sixties or seventies, best guess. He was dressed in blue cottons that matched between shirt and pants, suggested _uniform_. The necktie, badge, patches on the upper arms, and matching cap confirmed. _Security guard._ He had a long, lean face broken up by deep topographical lines, wrinkles on his clean-shaven cheeks and chin that made him look permanently purse-lipped. Scraggly gray hair poked out from under his cap. The dull gold of a wedding band was visible on his left hand alongside prominent veins. There were dark creases under his eyes, but the pupils and irises themselves were light. Interested. Intrigued. Mildly so.

Not threatening. Not threatened. He formed his mouth around the next step, the words that made up the most important question:

“Did I hurt anybody?”

The old man gestured wide with his arms to indicate the emptiness surrounding them. “There’s nobody around to get hurt. You did scare the hell out of some pigeons though.”

He allowed himself to breathe. “Lucky.”

“Or just good aim. You were awake when you fell.”

“You saw?”

“The whole thing. Right through the ceiling. Big and green and buck-ass nude. Here.” The old man threw a set of clothing down into the crater next to him, pants, shirt, and work boots. “Didn’t think those would fit you until you shrunk down to a regular-size feller.”

He pulled the pants up over his legs, stood so he could get them up over his waist, wincing a little at the feel of rough cloth on sensitive skin. “Thanks,” he told the man, hoping he understood the genuine gratitude there, the immeasurable importance of the kindness of strangers.

“Are you an alien?” the old man asked with plain curiosity.

“What?”

“From outer space,” he continued, as if it were the obvious conclusion. “An alien.”

“No,” he answered flatly. It would have been a better alternative, and perhaps he should’ve played along. But he was disinclined to lie to this man, who had given him clothes instead of fear.

“Well then, son,” the guard said, with the air of one revealing important new information, “you’ve got a condition.”

If he’d been less unsure, or even just less exhausted, he might have laughed. All he could manage was a short nod of intense agreement.

The pants were roomy and over-long, but they stayed up, riding low on his hips. He folded up the bottoms of each leg and slipped on the boots, then slid his arms through the shirt before climbing carefully out of the rubble.

“So, which one is it?” the guard wondered.

“Sorry?” he queried, doing up buttons, rolling sleeves.

“Are you a big guy that gets little,” the guard asked, “or a little guy that, uh, sometimes blows up large?”

He stared at the old man for a silent beat, then felt his face break into a smile. Here was a complete stranger who had unwittingly stumbled right onto the puzzle of his entire existence. “You know…I’m not even sure.”

“You got somewhere to go?”

“Stark Tower.” The words tumbled out unbidden like a reflex, along with the image of a screen zoomed in on one very specific and important location, the sound of insistent beeping, and behind that came a rush of memories, of _feeling_ , that sent him reeling for the briefest moment before he capped it all back in. “I – no.”

 _No_ was the right answer. The safe, smart answer. The best thing to do would be to take this chance while it was still so thoughtfully presenting itself – drop off the radar again, disappear. Find somewhere remote enough that even SHIELD would have to take their sweet time finding him again. But the word came out so hollow, so unconvinced, that he couldn’t do what he was best at and fool himself. He certainly hadn’t fooled the security guard, who was looking into his face with a quizzical expression as if waiting patiently for him to accept defeat, and he admitted, “Yes.”

And with that _yes_ came spilling soft brown eyes and strong, kind hands from the place in his mind where he was trying so hard to keep them buried, and he knew he was utterly fucked.

“I’d expect some confusion of the mind,” the old man granted, “since your body’s kind of all over the place.” He made a gesture forward with his index finger – _walk with me_. “But it has to be one or the other.” They strode together out of the building, all emptiness and tarnished glass, and into the sunlight. The New York skyline grinned at them across the Hudson.

“I know where I could do the most good,” he found himself explaining, “but it’s – where I could do the most harm.”

“Well, that’s no different than anybody else,” the guard chuckled. “Me, I’m here in Jersey where I can’t do much of either. And, since I’m not likely to move on from this placement, you may as well pilfer my ride.” He stretched out his arm to indicate a worn motorbike.

“I, uh…” The human capacity for kindness – coming from people who knew what he was, and didn’t flinch – was overwhelming at the best of times. This, this was too much, and he could see his last chance at freedom shrinking and dwindling away to nothing in the face of strange concepts like duty and heroism and…something else. Something he didn’t want to articulate, to say or even think, because it was such a deep and terrifying slippery slope and diving over it was sheer lunacy.

“I don’t know which way to go,” he said, and it was the only argument he had left.

The old man took off his cap and gave him a gentle, knowing smile that was infuriating and restorative in equal shares. “Your mind’s already made up, son,” he said, tossing him a set of keys. “The rest of you will follow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All dialogue from Joss Whedon's 2012 Avengers script, including footage that was cut from the theatrical release.


	10. Assembled

It was hard not to think about the first day they’d all been around the conference table after Fury’s initial interrogation with Loki, when Tony had suited up in the more literal sense and made initial promises to Phil regarding Oregon and a jet. The day he’d shaken Dr. Bruce Banner’s hand.

There were so few of them left now.

“These were in Phil Coulson’s jacket,” Fury spoke into the crushing silence. “I guess he never did get you to sign them.” He tossed a set of vintage trading cards towards Rogers. They scattered across the table, spattering blood. Rogers reached out a hand to peel one back, lifted it up to his face and gazed blankly at the tiny printed version of himself.

“We’re dead in the air up here,” Fury continued. “Our communications, the location of the cube, Banner, Thor…I got nothing for you.”

There was a dull tightness in Tony’s chest, a hollow, bitter feeling in the pit of his stomach. He ran one thumb over the other over and over because somehow the repetitive motion was keeping him from losing it, from getting to his feet and just _screaming_ at Fury that this was all his fault, that if he had left Bruce well enough alone, if he had understood how to handle Loki, if he had built an _actual_ containment cell instead of just throwing Loki into his fucking Hulk contingency plan –

“I lost my one good eye,” Fury said, a hint of disparaging humor in his voice before it turned cold again. “…Maybe I had that coming.”

Rogers let the card drop back to the table with a soft _click_.

“Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract,” Fury confirmed without a trace of apology. “I never put all my chips on that number, though, because I was playing something even riskier.” He moved as he spoke to the empty chair directly between Tony and Rogers and rested his arms against it. “There was an idea – Stark knows this – called the Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people to see if they could become something more. To see if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could.”

Tony jerked his head back for a glance at Fury to try and see his face, feel out his mood, but was met mostly with chair and black leather. He went back to staring straight ahead and tried to hold still, to fight against the endless litany of _I want to be someplace else_ echoing through his head.

“Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea. In heroes.”

Tony’s legs straightened out and brought him to his feet so quickly it didn’t even feel like a decision he’d made. It was more like reflex, like those particular words had finally pulled the trigger on him. He stood stock-still for a moment, gazing out ahead, not really seeing anything, and then his body took over again.

He sleepwalked the hallways until he got to a familiar door. Phil had entered a passcode and swiped his card there a few days prior, but now it was wide open.

The room felt emptier than the last time he'd been there, in that the gigantic glass nightmare that had been its focal point was gone. Also fuller, in that there was a burn mark glaring out of one of the walls. And a different kind of mark on the wall opposite.

He looked down into the pit in the center of the room, where he knew metal plates could (and would and _had_ , not so long ago) slide open to reveal a drop of tens of thousands of feet, and tried very hard to think. To rationalize. To get the important work done and try to imagine what it was that he’d seen before

_Think_

What the last thing was that Bruce had seen before

Before

He gave himself a moment, _just one very short moment, come on now,_ to bury his face in his hands and remember how to breathe instead of thinking about distances downward or looking at the stain on the wall or listening to echoes of words like _I’m going to go buy you some time_ and _this isn’t a consultation_ and _right now I’m as far from angry as I can get._

Then he took everything and _shoved_ , just pushed it all down and out of the way until all that was left was the analytical engine. Because that was what it was going to take for him to put himself in Loki’s shoes without wanting to die.

“Was he married?” Rogers asked.

He hadn’t noticed Rogers coming in; he’d been surprisingly quiet in those fucking garish red boots.

“No,” he answered, automatically. “There was a, uh, cellist, I think.” And it was weird the way people did that – downplayed their own knowledge with “ah”s and “um”s and words like “I think.” He knew perfectly well that there was a cellist somewhere in Portland, Oregon struggling with misplaced feelings of guilt. Assuming someone had told her. (Who was going to tell her?)

“I’m sorry,” Rogers said with the careful genuineness that always made Tony feel a little sick. “He seemed like a good man.”

Tony gave a short, mirthless snort of a laugh. “He was an idiot.”

Rogers frowned, taken aback. “Why? For believing?”

“For taking on Loki alone.”

“He was doing his job,” Rogers reminded him.

“He was out of his league,” Tony scoffed, pacing. “He should have waited. He should have…”

“Sometimes there isn’t a way out, Tony.” The way he said it was more resigned than stern, and Tony realized that Rogers had never called him by his first name before.

“Right,” he muttered. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Is this the first time you lost a soldier?”

Rogers asked so damn _gently_ , so ready to be sympathetic with a brother-in-arms. It made rage flare up inside of him because it was all so _goddamned unnecessary, AGAIN_ – fuck, there were dozens of trained agents on this ship, how hard would it have been to take backup, to think things through instead of running in blindly and becoming just another goddamned statistical sacrifice –

“We are _not soldiers._ ”

He spat the words out before he had time to realize how stupid they were.

Because of course Rogers _was_ a soldier. The soldier’s soldier. It was all he knew how to be. And he was looking right through Tony to his core, sizing him up in a way that made him regret his harshness. He almost wanted to cry out _no, Cap, it wasn’t_ , to tell Rogers the story of the first man who had died for him, the one who hadn’t stuck to the plan, who hadn’t waited, who had gone in alone –

“I’m not marching to Fury’s fife,” he said instead.

“Neither am I,” Rogers said firmly, surprising him. “He’s got the same blood on his hands that Loki does. But right now we got to put that behind us and get this done.”

That simple, sensible assertion got Tony’s gears shifting back where they needed to go. If Rogers, that poor bewildered man out of time, could keep it together, could do what needed to be done – well, then he could too.

So what would Loki do? Where would he choose to open his gateway, to guide his army through? – for that was undoubtedly his next step, now that he was free. They were running out of time.

He was dimly aware that Rogers was still talking – _Now Loki needs a power source. If we can put together a list_ – but his eyes had fallen to the stain on the wall, had allowed him to really _look_ at it, and with it came a revelation.

“He made it personal.”

“That’s not the point,” Rogers insisted impatiently.

“That is the point,” Tony countered. “That’s Loki’s point.” Turning agents to his will – and Barton, sure, it may have been a happy accident that he and Nat were close, but Loki _must_ have known how important Selvig was to Thor. He’d definitely known what Bruce was to Tony, and he’d _used_ that information, he’d taunted Tony with it, and his plan all along had been to outright _weaponize_ Bruce (and there was nothing Bruce would hate more than that, and all kinds of parts of Tony were snarling just _thinking_ about it).

And Phil, in a sense, had been the glue that bound them all together, rough as it was – because next to Fury, no one else had been so invested in creating a superhero dream team. Phil had been optimistic about it, too, had seen the humanity and the _fun_ in it as opposed to Fury who only looked at the benefits and the stakes. It had been there in the way Phil got all dewey-eyed over Cap, the way he bantered with Thor, the clear respect he and Natasha had for each other. How he hadn’t been afraid to get down on Tony’s own level and ridicule him, even as he’d helped him get in to try his luck with Loki. “He hit us all right where we live. Why?”

“To tear us apart,” Rogers said simply.

“Yeah, divide and conquer is…great, but he knows he has to take us out to win, right? _That’s_ what he wants. He wants to beat us, he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience.” It was easy, sickeningly easy to picture what had happened in this room – how Thor must have been trapped, forced to watch it all, to see his own brother kill the agent he’d befriended before his prison was dropped to the ground…

Rogers nodded agreement as Tony paced past him. “Right. I caught his act in Stuttgart.”

“Yeah. That’s just previews. This is opening night. And Loki, he’s a full-tilt diva, right?” He gestured dramatically with each point. “He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built to the skies with his name plastered-”

Rogers raised his eyebrows at him, ready to draw the obvious comparison – and then they both felt the penny drop.

“Sonofabitch,” Tony said emphatically.

“Stark Tower,” Rogers declared. “That’s it. That’s the power source.”

“Sonofa _bitch_. He _told_ us. Bruce said something about it, remember? – uh, like when Fury interrogated Loki for the first time, what was it, he was talking about energy, using it as a taunt-” He twirled his open palm in a circle, trying to remember.

“’A warm light for all of humankind to share,’” Rogers recited helpfully.

“That’s right. _Fuck._ It’s _perfect,_ it’s exactly what he needs to get the portal open. God, I am such a fucking _idiot_.” He crushed his hand up though his hair, eyes frantic. “I should have figured this out. Shouldn’t have needed to take this long. Why didn’t I see it before?”

“Well,” Rogers pointed out with a small, not unkind smile, “maybe you were distracted.”

“Distracted, hah, yeah right, so busy doing things the long way around that I didn’t-” And then he realized that wasn’t what Rogers meant.

Maybe Cap was right, too, that he’d been fooling himself thinking he’d been at the top of his game when something else – some _one_ – was taking up so much of his daily attention.

“You weren’t going for subtlety, were you?” Rogers prodded. “ _Really_?”

Tony gave a soft sigh. “That obvious, huh?”

“Well.” Rogers smile stretched, a little painfully, Tony thought. “I know the tells. Knew what to look for.”

Tony squinted at him. “Are you…?” He flushed a little then, waved his hands in a _sorry, not my business_ gesture, but Rogers nodded.

“I believe the young people are calling it ‘bisexual’ these days – but there wasn’t a convenient word for it seventy years ago. So yeah.” He shrugged, almost shyly. “I know what it looks like when you’re trying to keep it a secret. I credit myself that I was a damn sight better at it than _you_ are, though.” His smile deepened into something more genuine _._

"Why are you telling me this?  You hate me."

Steve sighed.  "I don't _hate_ you, Tony."

"How did you - for all that time, back, then - Steve, that must have been hellish-"

“You wanna wax poetic about it together later, I can make some time.” Steve put his hand between Tony’s shoulder blades and gave him a gentle shove towards the exit. “But now, we need to go. Get all the firepower we can and get down there. We should talk to Romanoff. Maybe she can fly one of those jets, get us regular folks there faster.”

“Regular – _shit_. My suit. I need to charge it. And god only knows what else – the last thing it did was get wrung through a high-speed turbine.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Steve echoed. “That’s right. I actually _forgot_ , can you believe that?”

“Yeah, well, so did I.”

“How long do you need?”

“At least an hour.”

“Ok. Ok.” Steve steeled himself. “You do what you need to do. I’ll get Romanoff. We’ll meet in the docking bay in an hour.”

“Right. Sounds good.”

“Tony.”

The almost plaintive tone of Steve’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“He might not come back,” Steve said softly.

“He’s not dead.”

“I know. I was there, I heard him. I’m sure he’s alive. But…he might take the chance to run while he can.”

“He won’t-”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“No! I would-”

He had to stop, then, because he realized how self-righteous any further argument would be. He wanted to see Bruce again, undeniably, after everything that had happened, see him and hold him and kiss the breath out of him. But between SHIELD’s bullshit and their cruelty – their recruitment goal had been the Hulk from the beginning, that much was obvious now – he couldn’t help but wish Bruce freedom. And what was more, Bruce Banner did not owe him a goddamn thing.

“You’re right,” he said. “You’re right, Steve,” and he made a sound, a sort of half-laugh half-sob.

“Maybe you’ll see him again someday. Once all of this is over, once we’ve all shaken SHIELD off of our tails. But now-” Steve’s brow furrowed and he gave Tony a searching, somber look that aged him years closer to his actual lifespan. “I know you don’t want a lecture. But we _need_ you right now, Tony. We need the knowledge and the suit, and we need you onboard. _All_ of you. And I know that’s not easy – Christ, _I know_ , all right, you have to believe me – but you can’t slip up today. None of us can afford to botch this; the stakes are far too high.”

Tony's nods picked up speed as Steve kept talking, until he caught his head in his hand and turned the gesture into an imperfect but sincere salute. “Message received.  Let’s go to war, Captain.”

“Docking bay. One hour.” He could see the shift as Steve went into high-power mode, the way his whole body went ramrod-straight as he turned to leave.

“Wait. There’s just-”

Steve sighed, fidgeted in place. “Yeah?”

“There’s just one thing I need from you. Before we do this. In case – y’know, in case anything goes wrong out there.  In case we don't come back.”

Steve nodded, grave and receptive. Tony searched out his face.

“Please, _please_ just tell me you never slept with my father.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and then – well, Tony wouldn’t have believed the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan to be capable of a grin that could only be described as “shit-eating.” And yet.

“Stark, I don’t have to tell you anything.”

~*~

An hour was nowhere near enough time, really, for the kind of TLC the Mark VI so desperately needed. It was enough, however, to get it out of the hallway where he’d abandoned it, and to find the right equipment to do some reforming and welding while the reactor charged off of the helicarrier’s generator. When time was up he had enough juice to fly about halfway across North America, as long as he didn’t have to blow anything up on the way. The suit didn’t look pretty, scarred all over with dings and scratches from the rotors, but it would get the job done.

He stepped into the suit fully clothed again, because the bright side to having to go to Stark Tower anyway was that he could switch marks when he got there. It crossed his mind that no matter what happened that day, it was going to be worth surviving just for how good the shower at the end would feel.

He met Steve and Natasha near the docking bay, making their way up from the infirmary. There was someone else with them, a steely-eyed character in a very tight combat suit carrying an honest-to-god bow and quiver as if he expected somehow to be taken seriously.

“Ok, who invited Katniss?” he asked. “And did someone explain to him where we’re going – like, can we get this guy some actual artillery, please?”

“Stark,” Natasha said icily, “this is Agent Clint Barton.”

“Oh. _Ohhhh._ ” He extended a gauntlet-encased hand and aimed his best for gentleness. Barton didn’t even flinch when they shook. “Glad to have you back with us. Um. You are back with us, right? Hard? Absolutely?”

“Oh, yes,” Barton assured him. “That is – this is the Take Down Loki party, right? I didn’t write my name on the wrong sheet?”

“I tried that trick you suggested,” Natasha told Tony. “Worked like a charm.”

“Oh, so I have _you_ to thank for this, huh?” Barton turned his head and ran his fingers up through the spikes of his hair to reveal a large, angry bruise. Tony sucked in air in sympathy, but Barton turned back and offered him a heartfelt “thanks.”

“As far as artillery,” Natasha snorted, “all this” – she thrust out a hand to indicate the general disarray on the helicarrier, the glaring holes and ripped metal and burn marks – “one arrow.”

Barton scratched his nose. “Aw geez, Nat.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve insisted. “That wasn’t you. But you’re here now, and you’re our pilot. Which way, Tony?”

“J, can we get a GPS signal here?”

“Easily, sir, at this altitude.” The map sprang into being on the heads-up display and he laughed out loud in relief.

“My god, we’re right over Jersey. We can get there in minutes.” He rattled off the address for Barton, had him repeat it back. Satisfied that they all knew where they were going, they split up in a chorus of well-wishes.

“Good luck.”

“Break a leg out there.”

“We’ll see you down there, huh?”

“Be ready for anything.”

The Captain and the agents marched off in unison towards the docking bay, and Tony stepped out into a dismembered service corridor and took to the sky. His heart was pounding with the weight of the day, of what they were all about to do, but also with jubilation.

Bruce had fallen into New Jersey. Fallen in that seemingly immortal body to ground mere miles away from the site where he knew any fallout from the Tesseract’s kidnapping would be going down. And something inside of Tony – maybe adrenaline, maybe false optimism, he didn’t really care – knew that Bruce would return to them, that when they arrived at Stark Tower they would find him there.

If he’d landed farther away then maybe not, maybe he would’ve taken the opportunity to vanish. But as it was he was so close – they’d all been so close all along, and he would’ve seen that on the helicarrier’s computer before the explosion. He would see this through to the end. Tony simply _knew_.

He didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to the idea in the back of his mind that maybe this was how he had to think, what he had to believe, in order to ground himself and get things done. Hey, whatever worked.

It was a laughably short flight before he was tracing the NYC skyline, and only a few minutes more after that to work his way to the Tower; Tony knew the city from the sky down, could navigate a hundred times faster in the air than he ever would’ve managed with his feet on the ground.

“Sir, I’ve turned off the arc reactor,” Jarvis informed him as he came up level with Stark Tower’s roof, “but the device is already self-sustaining.” He could see the Tesseract glowing in the center of an ingenious concoction of metal, while a man whose Nordic features gave away his identity manipulated the device with a nearby computer terminal.

“Shut it down, Dr. Selvig,” Tony ordered.

“It’s too late!” Selvig cried triumphantly, loud enough for Tony to hear him without a radio. “She can’t stop now.” He had the face of a wonderstruck child, eyes shining an uncanny blue that was far too bright. “She wants to show us something. A new universe.”

“Ok,” Tony said, nonplussed – he hadn’t expected it to be that easy but it was always worth a shot – and fired both palm repulsors full-blast at the portal equipment. At the moment of impact a blue bubble turned suddenly visible all around the contraption, and a shockwave of energy knocked him back a good ten feet in the air.

“The barrier is pure energy,” Jarvis reported. “It’s unbreachable.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Tony got his bearings, righted himself, and caught sight of a figure standing below on the deck of the Tower’s penthouse. He was clad in his traditional green with his returned weapon clutched firmly in his hand, and he was smiling. “Plan B.”

“Sir, the Mark VII is not ready for deployment.”

“Then skip the spinning rims. We’re on the clock.”

Tony landed as smooth as he could manage on the pad he’d designed specifically so he could have any suit removed, stored, and maintained immediate upon his return to home base. Loki kept his gaze locked to him as a host of robotic arms removed the Mark VI piece by careful piece, never breaking the smug, calm smile. Tony kept his eyes on Loki in return, especially the scepter, but Loki made no move to aggression, just calmly strolled into the penthouse from the deck as Tony entered from the opposite side.

Tony wondered how Loki and Selvig had gotten to the top of the Tower, if they’d simply landed directly there with the aid of their stolen SHIELD jet or if they’d left a trail of injured or dead staff in their wake. He felt horribly exposed. If he’d known he and Loki would meet again mano a mano after the kind of things that had been said during their previous conversation, he would’ve preferred a fully-operational suit already on his body. Maybe another thick glass wall for good measure. He was conscious in a way he hadn’t really been before of how many people Loki had killed, of just how devilishly dangerous he was.

“Please tell me you’re going to appeal to my humanity,” Loki said, all silky confidence.

“Uh, actually I’m planning to threaten you.” Tony made a cautious beeline for the bar. It would give him cover, allow him to re-suit without Loki noticing. Hopefully. Alcohol would also not go remiss.

Loki chuckled. “You should’ve left your armor on for that.”

“Yeah. It’s seen a bit of mileage, and you’ve got the, uh, glowstick of destiny.” Loki looked down at the scepter fondly. “Would you like a drink?”

“Stalling me won’t change anything.”

“No, no, threatening,” Tony reminded him. “No drink? You sure? I’m having one.”

Loki gave Tony up as a lost cause and moved to the nearest pane of glass in the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the far wall of the room. He looked out in anticipation, just short of bouncing on his toes with excitement. “The Chitauri are coming. Nothing will change that.” He turned back to face Tony once more. “What have I to fear?”

“The Avengers,” Tony replied, mondo casual, pouring himself a glass of the most expensive Scotch in his arsenal just in case it was his last. “That’s what we call ourselves,” he added in response to Loki’s quizzical look. “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes type thing.”

“Yes, I’ve met them.” Loki’s tone did not suggest so much as smear across Tony’s face how unimpressed he was with the lineup.

“Yeah, it takes us awhile to get any traction, I’ll give you that one,” Tony admitted with a smirk. “But let’s do a head count here. Your brother, the demigod-” He reached under the counter very slowly to pick up two thin metal cuffs, which he clamped around each wrist out of Loki’s sight as he kept listing. “A super soldier, a living legend who kinds of lives up to the legend; a man with _breathtaking_ anger management issues; a couple of master assassins – and you, big fella, you’ve managed to piss off every single one of them.”

Loki seemed genuinely amused at his choices of words. “That was the plan.”

“Not a great plan.” Tony came out from behind the bar, Scotch in hand. “When they come – and they will – they’ll come for you.”

“I have an army,” Loki reminded him.

“We,” Tony responded, with no small amount of pride, “have a Hulk.”

“Oh, I thought the beast had wandered off.”

“You’re missing the point,” Tony told him, squelching down worry in favor of turning the amp up on rage. “There is no throne. There is no version of this where you come out on top. Maybe your army comes and maybe it’s too much for us, but it’s all on you. Because if we can’t protect the earth, you can be damn well sure we’ll avenge it.”

 _Hey, that wasn’t bad,_ he congratulated himself as he took a sip. Loki’s smooth charm had all fallen off, replaced with frustration, and Tony found himself much less afraid. Because stalling for time was one thing, sure, but there’d been a lot of truth to what he’d said – Loki had managed to make himself quite the little personal Hate Club, and they were all going to have their turn with him before the day was over.

Loki advanced on him until they were mere inches apart. “How will your friends have time for me when they’re so busy fighting you?”

He raised the point of the scepter to Tony’s chest and struck him. There was a dull _ping._ All of Loki’s posturing and anger got put on hold in exchange for genuine confusion as he tried the motion again. _Ping._

“This usually works,” he muttered.

“Well, performance issues, you know,” Tony winced, “it’s not uncommon. One out of five-”

Loki grabbed him by the face and threw him across the floor.

Oh, right. Mass murderer. “Jarvis,” he whispered as the fear came surging back, “any time now.”

He had a very brief moment of silence for the loss of the Scotch before Loki grabbed his face a second time. “You will all fall before me,” he hissed.

“Deploy!” Tony shouted. “ _Deploy!_ ” and then Loki threw him straight through the glass into harsh, dizzying freefall.

There were a few seconds of rushing air that felt like years before the beeps sounded and he felt the Mark VII grip his wrists and move inch by inch over cloth and skin until he was completely encased. His last thought before the face shield snapped into place and he engaged the repulsors just a few feet above the ground was that this probably shouldn’t feel this good, that the switch from fear to joy at the slightest touch of metal was maybe a tad messed up. He did have his problems.

He was still grinning under the helmet, though, as he shot back up to the top of the Tower to where Loki was standing by the broken pane.

“And there’s one other person you pissed off,” he said over the suit’s speakers. “His name was Phil.” Loki raised the scepter to shoot an energy blast, but Tony fired a palm repulsor straight at his chest and knocked him flat on his back.

It felt _good_. It was a shame he didn’t have much time to bask in it what with the sky ripping apart.

He could see stars, actual stars from someplace god knew how many light years away, on the inside of the hole that opened up against the blue.

The Chitauri came, sailing through the hole in the sky in threes on small aircraft that his sci-fi upbringing decided to christen _hoverbikes_.   They were terribly and unquestionably _alien_ , humanoid in overall shape, but lanky and with sharp corners that suggested insect more than human. They were heavily armed and armored, but he could still make out jawlines that reminded him of the figure he’d seen when he’d breathed in too deep over Loki’s weapon.

“Right,” Tony murmured as Jarvis switched his heads-up from flight to combat. “Army.”

Tony had questions, lots of them, about things like origin and culture, but the Chitauri were definitely not there to make conversation. He flew directly up into their advancing line, dodging energy blasts similar to those made by Loki’s weapon that came from guns both handheld and mounted. When the repulsors were unsuccessful, too hard to aim, he released a collection of heat-seekers from a container on the right shoulder. Those were much more effective, taking out several of the hoverbikes, but more kept coming in a steady stream through the portal. On his own, any dent he could make was superfluous. He needed backup, badly.

The Chitauri descended into the city and began to fire, undiscerning as to their targets – structures, vehicles, and fleeing humans were all fair game. People in the streets were taking cover as fast as they could, but if things kept going like this, people were very seriously going to start dying and in massive numbers.

All Tony could think to do was to try and lure away as many of the hovercraft as he could, to keep them trailing behind him until he figured out a better way to take them out. He managed to attract the attention of a steady stream of bikes by firing the repulsors at them, but there were so many more still unleashing destruction in the street.

Natasha’s face popped up on his display. “Stark, we’re on your three, headed northeast.”

“What, did you stop for drive-through? Swing up Park – I’m gonna lay ‘em out for ya.”

He kept the current batch of hoverbikes on his tail with Natasha’s jet in his peripheral, and was dimly aware of explosions behind him – it seemed a few of the Chitauri had been unable to bank fast enough to keep up with the turning capacity of the Mark VII, and had crashed against the walls of the glass canyon. Once he’d led the remaining bikes within range, the jet’s rail gun took several more down.

“Sir, we have more incoming,” Jarvis updated him.

“Fine. Let’s keep them occupied.”

He zipped back up toward the portal, going around the jet where it had come to a hover outside of Stark Tower. As he passed by he could see a tangle of green and red on the penthouse deck – Loki and Thor, grappling. _Thor, excellent_ – he was all right then, appeared completely uninjured judging from the energy he was putting into his current bout. Tony heard Barton and Natasha’s voices over the radio:

“Nat?”

“I see him.”

He could only watch, helpless, as Loki hit the jet with a blast from the scepter before the crew could fire. The right wing went up in flames. Barton pulled around and managed to make a crash landing in an area that had already been cleared out, and Tony waited with bated breath until he saw three figures emerge from the hatch, moving along at a good clip. No major injuries.

“We got to get back up there,” he heard Steve say, and then a low bellow came from the portal that shook the air around him, vibrated in every molecule of the armor surrounding his body.

The thing that emerged from the hole in the sky in the wake of that sound was by far the most incredible, awe-inspiring, _terrifying_ thing he’d seen in his entire life.

It was enormous, the sheer size of it nearly incomprehensible, and while there were legions of Chitauri clinging to its sides using it as transport, it was very much alive. It swam across the skyline like some kind of displaced deep-sea nightmare, all sinuous movements and jutting fishbones. It was made up of hard angles and sharp edges, and it was impossible to tell where the creature ended and the armor began. As Tony watched in mesmerized horror, Chitauri foot soldiers launched by the dozen off of the thing’s sides, bursting through windows and scraping along the walls of buildings. The air was filled with the sounds of alien gunfire.

“Stark, are you seeing this?” Steve asked him over the radio.

“Seeing. Still working on believing.” He flew cautiously alongside the thing, about one building’s distance over, watching as fins cut effortlessly through steel and glass. He had a sinking feeling that none of their current munitions were equal to this, especially with the loss of the jet. They needed something powerful, something with massive destructive capability. …or someone.

“Where’s Banner? Has he shown up yet?”

“Banner?” Steve echoed in disbelief, his tone clearly saying _Come on, Tony, we talked about this_.

“Just keep me posted.” He edged a little closer to the massive creature, studying it, but everything visible to the naked eye looked pretty damn impervious. “Jarvis, find me a soft spot.”

Jarvis scanned the thing and threw a zoom onto the heads-up, and Tony could see that the creature did have chinks in its armor, that somewhere under all that protective covering it was made of flesh, or whatever passed for flesh where it came from. The openings were small, though, and doing any damage would mean getting a lot closer than he was keen on.

He tailed the thing for another few blocks, keeping out of its sightlines – assuming it had them, he wasn’t all that sure if it had eyes, but it certainly had a face because there were a hell of a lot of teeth. Once he was sure it wouldn’t see him coming, he flew straight for it and let fly another barrage of heat-seekers. They pinged uselessly off of its hide, but the thing had felt them, apparently – executed a graceful one-eighty and came after him in a shower of rubble.

“Well, we got its attention,” he murmured to himself. “What the hell was step two?”

He boosted power to the thrusters, because for all the brute strength the creature had it didn’t move any too fast. Keeping a safe distance between them but making sure the thing never lost track of him, he scanned the ground for the bright red of Thor’s cape. The Asgardian’s lightning was probably the next best bet in their toolbox; even if it didn’t manage to break through the armor, it might at least stun the thing.

“What’s the story upstairs?” he heard Steve ask.

“The power surrounding the cube is impenetrable,” came Thor’s reply.

“Thor’s right,” Tony confirmed, using his radio signal so they could all hear him. “We got to deal with these guys.”

“How do we do this?” Natasha asked.

“As a team,” Steve replied.

Thor’s voice again – “I have unfinished business with Loki.”

Then Agent Barton’s sardonic reply. “Yeah? Well, get in line.”

“Save it,” Steve advised. “Loki’s going to keep this fight focused on us, and that’s what we need. Without him, these things could run wild. We got Stark up top. He’s going to need us to-”

For a few moments Tony was afraid he’s lost the signal, but then he heard Natasha’s voice come through.

“I’ve seen worse,” she said, and then, after a beat, an awkward, “No, we could – use – a little worse.”

With a jump of his heart, he realized she was talking to someone without a radio. And then, sure enough, Steve’s voice, all subdued elation –

“Stark, we got him.”

“Banner?”

“Just like you said.”

Tony rounded a corner and then he could see them all lined up together – the flashy red of Thor, the blue of Steve’s suit, the somber colors of the two agents, and one more tousled outline, shorter than the rest of them except for Natasha, standing with firm, open posture in front of a motorbike. In spite of the chaos all around him and the monster behind him he felt a rush of relief and unbridled joy.

“Then tell him to suit up. I’m bringing the party to you.”

He headed straight for the group with the creature in tow, and was more than a little amused at Natasha’s deadpan, “I-I don’t see how that’s a party.”

As he flew closer he could start to make out Bruce’s features, could see the outline of oversized clothes and wavy hair until finally Bruce’s face was visible. He was walking forward straight toward the oncoming threat with an expression of perfect calm.

“Dr. Banner,” he heard Steve say. “Now might be a really good time for you to get angry.”

Bruce turned back to Steve and said something Tony couldn’t hear, still striding forward. Facing front again, he gave Tony one quick, resigned smile – if Tony had blinked at the wrong time he would have missed it.

Then Bruce shifted and grew and _changed._ Not even a full second had gone by and there was someone else there, someone with familiar traces in his brow and cheekbones but who was so very obviously not Bruce.

In all that SHIELD footage there hadn’t been a single clip of the actual transformation, probably because this was the first time Bruce had willfully done it in front of anyone else. Tony was shocked by the speed and smoothness of it, the instantaneous ripple of muscle, the way Bruce’s clothes were reduced to tatters in the wake of the sheer force of it. It was horrifying, undeniably monstrous, but there was beauty there, too – so much so that the awe of it knocked all the scientific questions out of his head. It was enough just to be present, to witness it.

 _Steve was right,_ he thought.  _This really isn't funny.  Not at all._

The Chitauri’s warship creature descended, and Hulk raised a fist.

It was as if the thing had hit a wall, not a humanoid figure only a fraction of its size. The forward momentum kept the creature moving, armored plates and jutting bones grating until it was sticking straight up in the air from teeth to tail. The motion was a kind of realtime slow-motion, slow enough that Tony finally had a clear shot as patches of flesh were revealed between the thing’s plating.

“Hold on!” he called out to the team, firing a missile at the largest visible soft spot. The explosive connected and pulverized the strike area, showering the ground with bits of meat. The creature toppled ass end over teakettle, hit the ground with a thunderous _thud_ , and lay still.

There was a cohesive howl of outrage from the Chitauri foot soldiers. Hulk roared back, challenging them, his single voice nearly as deafening as their collective screams. Landing next to him, Tony could feel that vocalization in every limb, vibrating through the metal that surrounded him.

This was all of them, together now, standing back to back in a circle – the archer, the god, the superspy, the captain, the man of metal, and rage personified – weapons primed and loaded, muscles taut, prepared for whatever might come.

And oh, if only Phil Coulson could’ve seen them now, Tony thought with painful fondness, he would’ve positively wet himself.

 _There’s a strong possibility we’re going to die here_.

_…but we’re going to look wicked cool doing it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lifting from Joss Whedon's 2012 Avengers script extends from "These were in Phil Coulson's jacket" to "Sonofabitch," and again from "Sir, I've turned off the arc reactor" to "Hold on!"


	11. Vindicated

_It is this – the color, the noise, the smells. And the anger. There is little need for anything else._

_There are color patterns which assert familiarity, as if from some long-forgotten dream. These are good, this red, this blue, this red-and-gold most of all, although it is too soon out of sight. The red hair is most questionable and he would sooner go about his business away from it. But this is done easily enough._

_For the range is limitless today – it has even been condoned, in a spoken word from the blue one. It’s almost been worth the long stretch of imprisonment in flesh and neurons and seemingly endless complacence – almost – to be twice free in such a short span of time._

_But this, the second time, is different. Is better. Even the anger tastes different, smacks of jubilance, of righteousness. Not that he could explain this. Not in so many words. The knowledge is intrinsic. It sings in each new breath that transports fresh blood to muscle. He knows the anger because he knows himself._

_The freedom, however, is something so new and exhilarating that it thrills through his senses like a second set of nerves. He doesn’t understand why the other has become so docile, why it rides easy in the back of his mind without complaint or fight. It has never been so gentle with him before, never given him such reign over his own faculties. He would feel gratitude if he was capable of feeling anything for it but disdain._

_He turns to his purpose, to his reason for breath, to the unmaking. He is destruction made manifest, and he listens to the world tremble in his wake with the rending of flesh and the cracking of bone. Gunfire tingles on the surface of his skin._

_It is this – the anger and the ecstasy._

_He crushes and climbs and soars in time to the thrum of his heartbeat, and all gives way beneath him until he finds himself at the peak at last, where he can go no higher. Glass shatters and he collides with the one in green. Not his own green – this shade is bitter and sly in his faint yet insistent memory, and his anger broils hotter at the sight of it_

_The green one makes sounds with the mouth, so loud in their shrieking that it gives him pause. He registers their meaning but does not find it of any importance._

“Enough! You are all of you beneath me!”

_And then something interesting happens – the other stirs and speaks up within him, but it is not the usual chorus of **NO** , of pleas to act in opposition to his nature, to do no harm. Instead there is more anger, **more** , added in duet to his own, and this is accompanied by a concession, an allowance. The implication is clear._

**_Do what you want. Don’t hold back._ **

“I am a god, you dull creature, and I will not be bullied by-”

_He seizes the green one and slams the body into the floor over and over until it lies silent and still amid a powdery mess of cracked tile. Satisfaction warms him to the marrow, so much so that he doesn’t even mind when the other stirs up in him and steals its way into his speech centers._

“Puny god.”

~*~

It took Tony all of five seconds to decide to die. It was simple, really, just a question of numbers. He’d always been good at math.

Still, it was probably all for the best that he didn’t really have time to think about it, that the need for action was so desperately immediate. The exhaustion helped too, honestly, made dealing with an armed nuke seem like kind of a relief after the endless stream of Chitauri. There was more Jarvis than Tony inside the suit at that point, his AI diligently saving his ass over and over again as he got progressively more bleary and numb, and even J wasn’t going to last much longer if the flickering of the heads-up was any indication.

He couldn’t expect more from the battery, not after the kind of workout he’d been putting the Mark VII through. Not ten minutes ago he’d flown straight through one of the Chitauri warship creatures, left a few explosives inside of it and then worked his way back out through the bloody pulp of the wreckage. It had been a harrowing experience. One of the more unpleasant things he’d done with his life. He’d had a fleeting wish that he could wipe his memory after this was over, all Tommy Lee Jones style. SHIELD, the MIB, they were pretty much the same thing, they had to have some tech like that sitting around somewhere, yeah?

_Well,_ he thought hysterically, _it won’t matter now._

“Jarvis, put everything we got into the thrusters.”

“I just did.”

It was only as he was rocketing upward, shaking a persistent Chitauri footsoldier off of his ankles, that the panic started to kick in.

_Shit oh SHIT maybe I don’t want to do this huh like maybe I really REALLY DON’T WANT TO DO THIS_

_All of Midtown > one, do the math, jackass._

The solution to their nuke problem was simple, just really elegant in how simple it was if he only had the battery life remaining to get there. It would get rid of the bomb and with any luck take out a good-sized chunk of their current alien problem in the process. Because they were losing. Very badly. No matter how many Chitauri soldiers or vehicles or monster warships the six of them took out, more kept coming in a seemingly endless river of annihilation.

He heard Nat’s voice, trembling with effort and relief – “I can close it. Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down.”

And oh, that was excellent, that was some really beautiful news for everybody, but even as Steve shouted “Do it!” Tony cut over him with a “No, wait.” He meant for it to come out urgent and intense, but the words felt dead on his tongue.

“Stark, these things are still coming.”

“I got a nuke coming in. It’s gonna blow in less than a minute.” He could see it now, zooming over the horizon on course for the city, and he put just a touch more juice into the thrusters to catch up with it. “And I know just where to put it.”

There was a moment of radio silence as Steve put two and two together, giving him enough time to latch on to the missile with both arms and start gently redirecting, throwing the last of his power into four additional thrusters built into the shoulders and chest. “Stark, you know that’s a one-way trip.”

_Yeah, thanks a million Steve, I hadn’t figured that out._

He didn’t say it out loud. Steve was a good kid and he didn’t deserve it.

“Save the rest for the turn, J.”

“Sir, shall I try Miss Potts?” Why had he programmed Jarvis with any kind of emotional sensitivity? What the hell was the point of having an AI that could sound fucking _regretful and sad?_

“Might as well,” he replied with light casualness that sounded tinny and fake even in his own ears.

Her face was frozen smiling out at him from the heads-up and he stopped counting after the third ring. Had to focus instead on the ascent, on using the last of the battery to get the missile vertical, shooting straight up for the hole in the sky. Also focused on quashing the anger boiling up because when _if_ she answered he didn’t want the last thing he ever said to her to be incoherent yelling.

But this _wasn’t fair._ Not to her. Not to Pepper or Rhodey or Happy or even the goddamned helicarrier crew, and _god_ , not to Bruce – not to anybody left behind. Because he knew, he knew _exactly_ how it would feel when people talked about how fucking _brave_ he’d been and how he’d saved the world and he would still just be _gone_ and the world wouldn’t be enough –

_I’m sorry – I didn’t – this isn’t what I wanted to be._

Probably better to just stick with _I love you_ because it was simpler and no less true, but even though he’d lost track of rings he knew in his heart it had been too many.

_Fuck – I am so, so sorry – I_

_I didn’t have a choice_

Oh

_I really didn’t have a choice_

He didn’t

They didn’t

Just like that four years worth of anger and bitterness rolled off and fizzled away, realizing that it hadn’t only been about getting him out of a cave in one piece.

_You can’t be the one who lets your city die. Not when you could easily stop it. You CAN’T._

_That’s not a real choice._

That’s what he was doing. That’s what Yinsen had done.

Stopping the bomb.

_Ok then._

That was just the way it was.

_...it just really fucking sucks._

He was so close he felt his feet scrape against the Tower, caught a glimpse of Nat and Selvig poised around the portal tech. He had the foresight then to close off the suit’s air supply, to set it in the mode he had on each Mark for any underwater work, and hoped that it would be enough. Asphyxiation seemed preferable to having his fluids sucked out or whatever the hell else it was that happened to you when you launched yourself unprotected into the vacuum of space.

_Hey everyone._

_I’m sorry._

_…I’m going to go buy you some time._

And then the New York skyline was gone and he was enveloped by starlight.

There was a spaceship. An honest-to-god alien spaceship, huge and bright and beautiful – _beautiful_ , the voice of his eight-year-old self whispered in his ear, and he felt a pang of honest, bitter regret at what he had to do.

He did it anyway.

The thrusters carried him forward just a little farther, then Jarvis tried to speak, to say something about the call to Pepper failing, before everything inside the helmet went dark. He let go of the missile, let the inertia carry it forward, eyes fixed on the ship as he started to fall back

_what_

towards the open portal

_WHY_

because Nat hadn’t shut it yet and the gravity was strong enough to pull him back through. So it was a question of which would kill him first, the fall or the lack of oxygen.

The manic thought crossed his mind that either way there would be a body. Which was nice, from a closure standpoint.

It was probably going to be asphyxiation though – he was falling so slowly and already gasping for breath, trying to keep his sights on the ship as the missile closed in –

And connected –

There was a massive sphere of fire and a profound silence – no sound in space, that really was weird – and the ship was gone. Obliterated. Eradicated. Shrapnel.

The relief never came.

No feeling of accomplishment, no sense of an ending.

Well, there was an ending, that was getting closer, and maybe it was that, the oxygen deprivation and the panic, that gave rise to the thought:

_There are more_

But there was another wall of darkness coming, deeper even than space, folding in around him and over him, warm and comforting and strangely familiar.

_Oh_ , he realized with a rush of gratitude, _I’m blacking out._

_That’s nice._

Tony let his eyes close.

_That’s…_

~*~

_He saw the red and gold vanish through the hole in the sky, cradling the bomb in his arms over his head. He felt something tear loose inside him even then, felt the other stirring and thrashing with a power he didn’t know it possessed._

_Now he can see those colors again, the metallic shine, falling back to earth like a meteor._

_And the other screams._

**_nononononoNONONO_ **

_There is a fury in it he thought only himself capable of. It sears across his brain like a living scar._

_It’s impressive._

_It’s like coming home._

_It spurs him into action._

_It seems for once they have found something they can agree on._

~*~

His entire field of perception was full to the brim with _roaring_.

It snapped him out of the soft and the dark with a yell of his own as feeling, senses, breath came rushing back. And there he was, prone on the ground in the city which still appeared to be very much – well, not in one piece, in several pieces, all over the place, but it was _there_ , and so were Steve and Thor and Hulk and they had never looked so joyful or so _good_. Really a handsome group all around, age and godhead and green aside.

Hulk gave another roar that shook the earth and the very air, and damn if this one didn’t sound _happy_.

“What the hell?” he stuttered. “What just happened? …please tell me nobody kissed me.” Which was just goofing, really, just playing around, because right then he would have happily kissed any of them. Maybe all three at once.

Steve took a few deep breaths. “We won,” he said as if he could hardly believe it.

A profound sigh escaped from Tony’s lungs, relief at last, to be done, to be _alive_. He let his head drop back to the ground and closed his eyes. Every limb felt like it weighed at least a couple hundred pounds. “All right, yay! Hurray. Good job guys. Let’s not come in tomorrow. Let’s just-” he winced as his body suddenly remembered that it could feel pain “- take a day. Have you ever tried shawarma?” He could see Steve laughing, really, honestly laughing, and for once he looked like a kid instead of the old man he was. “There’s a shawarma joint about two blocks from here. I don’t know what it is but I want to try it.”

“We’re not finished yet,” Thor said, gentle but firm, a bit parental. He wasn’t even short of breath.

They all took a moment in silence, cataloging what still needed to be done and trying to summon up the energy for it.

“…and then shawarma after,” Tony relented.

~*~

With the helicarrier’s communications back up, it was the work of a moment to get another jet sent down. As it was on its way Steve was able to get Clint in on the radio and guide him to join the group. He was hobbling a little when he showed up, but whole – a few scratches, no major wounds. He had one arrow left in his quiver that he had picked up off the ground on the way back.

The kid piloting the jet seemed very nervous about having the Hulk onboard, but he was calm – as calm as anger-made-flesh could ever be, Tony supposed, which meant constantly pacing and thrumming a little with unused energy. Now that they weren’t knee-deep in aliens Tony couldn’t take his eyes off him. The more he looked, the more of Bruce he could see – it was there in the slope of Hulk’s shoulders and the movement of his facial muscles and even a little bit in his teeth.

Hulk wasn’t stupid, that much was obvious – it was probably an unfair association made by the press because he was the strong silent type, simply did not talk. Tony had the suspicion that it wasn’t that he _couldn’t_ , it was just that he considered it a waste of time and energy. He was definitely listening, butted in on Steve, Clint, and Thor as they were discussing who had last seen Loki and where and pointed with a devilish grin to the top of Stark Tower. “Excellent,” Clint mumbled, “that’s where we’re going anyway.”

He caught Tony staring eventually, and turned to him with a question in his curled lip.  Tony tried to cram all the warmth and gratitude he felt welling up inside into two words - “Thank you."

Hulk let out a frustrated exhalation and turned away, but then looked back slowly with a smile that was absolutely pure Bruce, and it chased away the shadows at the edge of Tony’s mind that kept trying to sneak in, to whisper about what had happened in the sky and what it meant. He wasn’t ready to look that full in the face and deal with it. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

They landed on the roof of the tower with just enough room to depart, and the agent in the pilot’s seat was now chewing her lip in consternation – she had obviously drawn the short straw back on the helicarrier. Natasha and Selvig were waiting for them, the doctor a bit worse for the wear; he didn’t have Clint’s resilience at bouncing back from mind control, apparently. Thor got him situated as comfortably as he could on the jet as Selvig whispered garbled tech-speak to himself. The Asgardian gave his friend’s hand a warm squeeze, his face a mask of concern, before turning to the pilot as she produced a pair of cuffs and something that looked like a high-tech muzzle.

“You’re probably the best one to go in,” she told Thor cautiously, “since you’re an even match. But we can have our agents on standby –“

“We’re going in together,” Clint told her, no room for argument. And they hadn’t discussed it, hadn’t said a word about it, but that was it, obviously.

Tony led them down the service stairs and through a corridor into the penthouse, into the room where he’d threatened Loki to stall for time, and sure enough, Loki was there on the floor, pulling himself up out of a small crater where he’d clearly been lying prone for quite some time. Tony shot Hulk a glance and received a meaningful look in return.

Loki got to his knees to find himself face to face with six very angry Avengers, one of them armed with his own scepter. It looked right in Nat’s hands, like it belonged there – Tony realized there was no one else he’d trust with it more, and felt a surge of gratitude to her for doing the sensible thing in the heat of the battle, for cutting the enemy off at its source.

They’d let Clint take the front, no discussion needed to give him the place he so justly deserved, on his knees with his bow drawn and his final arrow in Loki’s face.

Loki cast his eyes on Tony with a smile of total defeat plastered on his face. “If it’s all the same to you,” he said with a sigh of incredible pain, “I’ll have that drink now.”

Tony found himself with no words left for Loki, but Hulk gave a satisfied rumble behind him that perfectly encapsulated everything he was feeling as Thor stepped forward and produced the cuffs and muzzle. Tony realized with wry amusement that the latter was made to keep Loki from talking, to cut off his greatest source of power. Loki allowed Thor to cuff him without resistance, and Tony was caught up in the way Loki’s total exhaustion mirrored his own when Steve suddenly yelled, “Banner down!”

Tony spun around to find Hulk shrinking, collapsing in on himself, muscles dissolving, flesh turning pale and pliant. He’d never considered this – the reverse transformation, the homecoming. Even as Steve dropped his shield Tony reached out and caught Bruce, swept his legs off the ground and cradled him with the additional stability granted by his armor.

“Hey, doctor,” Tony near-whispered. “Welcome back.”

Bruce looked up into his face with a bleary, exhausted smile. “Good to be home.”

Tony touched his forehead to Bruce’s and shook with silent, desperate laughter.

“How do you feel, doctor?” Steve asked, giving Bruce’s shoulder a squeeze.

Bruce consulted with his body in silence for a moment. “ _Really_ hungry.”

“Well, it just so happens that food was our next stop anyway,” Steve assured him. “Assuming shawarma is edible, Tony?”

“I assume.”

Clint snorted, returning his last arrow to his quiver. “Seriously, have you been living under a rock? Yeah, it’s food. Slow-roasted meat. Levantine, I think? Lamb, chicken, maybe some beef, maybe a mix. Eat in on flatbread with some veggies, pickled veggies, hummus, like that.”

“Like gyros?”

“Yes,” Clint sighed. “Like gyros. How do you live here and not know shawarma?”

“That,” Bruce said softly. “Sounds _really_ good.”

“Although, Bruce, I don’t think ‘come as you are’ is an option for you right now,” Tony reminded him.

“…damn.”

“Yep. Let’s find you some clothes.”

“Check in with me when you do, ok?” Bruce requested, and then promptly passed out.

The team stared at them in silence. Tony stared back.

“Uh…you know what? I got this. No, no, I got this,” as Steve started to make a half-hearted offer, while Clint and Nat looked downright relieved. Thor was grinning even with the all-but-forgotten Loki pinned under his arm. “You take care of Loki, get him under SHIELD custody, make sure they do it right this time. I’ll meet you on the ground. Shawarma Palace, Clint, two blocks east. Blue and white awning.”

He watched them leave, bow and hammer, shield and scepter, leading the trickster god in chains, until he was alone in his wrecked penthouse, working his way slowly through broken glass and spilled liquor with Bruce gone limp in his arms.  In the silence he could feel his buzz at simply being alive start to dissipate, felt sleepiness taking its place, with a touch of unease.

The bedroom was more or less undamaged, just a little on the dusty side. When he closed the door he could almost imagine none of it had ever happened, that he was reaching the end of another ordinary day. With his body encased in space-battered armor as he carried an unconscious naked guy around.

Well, it was a big “almost.”

He set Bruce gently down on the bed. He knew perfectly well, beyond any reasonable doubt, that Bruce was alive and fine. It didn’t stop him from checking to make sure he was breathing normally, feeling and listening for that strong, steady heartbeat.

He flipped the manual switches necessary to emerge from his shell and found himself human again, clothes from the long-ago morning stuck to him with sweat. A soft, dim part of his mind told him he should change, find some clothes for himself as well as Bruce, but he felt too battered to pay it much attention. Going through the range of motion it would take to remove pants seemed like a monumental task, much less putting on a different pair.

He searched closet and drawers for clothes to fit Bruce, figuring anything that would fit him now could easily accommodate the doctor as long as he stayed in his current smaller form. Tony couldn’t shake off the image of the change, even as he ran his fingers through cloth and hangers and tangible, familiar things. His head kept playing the initial expansion and the more recent contraction over and over on loop.

He was trying to pull a pair of pants out of the top drawer when the shaking started. It moved through his fingertips down his arms into his entire body until he was shivering like the room had dropped to subzero. At the same time he felt overheated, like the air was too stuffy to draw oxygen from properly, and he sat down hard with his back against the dresser and his arms around his knees trying to remember how to breathe.

_Oh_. This made sense, didn’t it? Not an overreaction by any stretch, if he thought about it. Just the normal recalibration a human body goes through after being shot into space with zero prep and almost dying there. The combined victory and horror of killing hundreds of alien life forms without even introducing yourself first…

He wondered where Pepper was, what Rhodey was doing, if they knew he was alive. He wondered if any of the bar was still in one piece, if there was anything left there he could use to slow his heart rate down. He slid a hand up to his head, grabbed onto a handful of hair and let the heel of his palm rest hard against his forehead in an attempt to hold up everything inside and out.

“…Tony?”

Bruce’s voice was so small, so quiet. Tony turned to look at him with his hand still tangled in his hair. Bruce hadn’t moved, was still lying flat and limp, and Tony stood and covered the space in one long stride, sat down next to him and put his hand on his shoulder to feel warm, completely human skin.

“Tony,” Bruce said again, and managed with minimal assistance to sit up. He lifted his palm to Tony’s face and traced his cheek, ran his fingers over the hair on his chin. “We caught you.” An expression of profound relief washed over Bruce’s face, smoothed out every crease, wound a tight knot in Tony’s chest. He brought Bruce’s fingers to his lips and kept them there.

“You were right,” Bruce told him, and words began rushing out of him, building energy as they came. “It was different. It was – better. Changing on purpose. I remember – Tony, I remember almost everything. It was like I got to help drive, like instead of being taken over I was – we were – I don’t know, sharing it? Almost, _almost_ like a partnership, instead of a battle. And I know – I _remember_ – I didn’t hurt anyone who wasn’t supposed to get hurt. I mean, I think I slugged Thor one but he had it coming-”

Tony wrapped his arms around Bruce and clung to him, trying to suppress the shaking against his skin, taking in deep inhales of his smell. Bruce felt new and fresh and he didn’t have a mark on him anywhere – he’d been shot full force with energy blasts from a Chitauri squadron and he didn’t have so much as a scratch.

“I think I did good today,” Bruce mumbled into Tony’s sleeve.

“You did fucking _fantastic_ ,” Tony hissed, and his voice gave out on the last word so that he had to hold Bruce tighter and choke out, “Bruce, I said – the most asinine shit. I know I did. I can’t remember exactly what, but about privilege and control and I am _so fucking sorry_ , I’m an ignorant shithead and you didn’t deserve-”

“Tony, it’s ok.” Bruce shushed him, raised his own arms to encircle Tony and pressed his hands against Tony’s back. “It’s ok.”

An embarrassingly sad, needy noise escaped from Tony’s throat, and he moved his head to rest on Bruce’s chest so he could listen to the insistent thrum of his heartbeat. The rhythm flowed into him and filled his head, strangely soothing. Warm and real and alive. He wanted to drown in it.

“Bruce,” he whispered, “I need…”

Bruce cupped Tony’s chin in his hand and lifted until they were face to face again, his features crinkled with concern, searching out Tony’s eyes for clues.

_I need your skin. Your blood._

Tony reached to grasp the back of his head and drew him into a kiss.

_…I need your control._

Bruce kissed him back, breathed and nuzzled and licked life back into him until his own rapid heartbeat felt sweet and right again. Tony let it deepen until they were a desperate clash of teeth and tongues, dipping his hand between Bruce’s legs to touch him, gently, where he was getting hard. Asking a silent question. Maybe begging, a little. Bruce answered by kissing him so hard that it hurt.

It actually _hurt_.

Bruce crushed them together and bit at Tony’s lips until they felt bruised and sore, and it was perfection.

He let Bruce take him down but kept holding on, clinging to him as tight as he could to keep from slipping into the shadows at the edges of vision and thought. Bruce’s lips found his neck as he let his full weight down on top of Tony, pressing him into the mattress. He was _heavy_ for such a small person – dense, maybe, Tony thought vaguely, with all the potential energy coiled up inside of him.

Bruce’s teeth met sensitive skin, hard enough to leave marks, Tony was sure – new blood rising to match the dozen other cuts and scrapes. Another set of wounds for the day. He counted them, meticulously kept track of each place where Bruce bit down, numbering the bruises he would find and holding onto each one like an anchor in his mind. Somehow he must have communicated, spoken in a language of whimpers and gasps that Bruce could understand – _please don’t stop, don’t ever, ever stop –_ because Bruce moved his mouth all across his neck, biting and sucking, up along his jawline and down to his collarbone, fingers pushing his sweaty t-shirt over his shoulder to expose more skin.

It was almost as dramatic as the transformation he’d seen down in the street, this new change in Bruce as he threw away deliberation and acted on instinct and hot raw need. Tony was a mess of sweat and he knew he smelled terrible and every muscle he owned ached, and he was as hard as he’d ever been in his entire life. Bruce had reached a point of such intense, desperate heat that he felt he might ignite underneath him. And he _wanted_ that, strangely, would’ve been so very content in that moment to be utterly consumed, to flicker and burn away to ash under Bruce’s body.

He couldn’t speak. He could barely breathe. He just let Bruce work him over, arching up into him all breathy moans and gasps. Bruce didn’t bother undressing him, only took the time to push aside whatever was in his way – t-shirt fabric sliding up over his chest, more kisses, more bites, a sharp cry as Bruce’s teeth grazed only just shy of too hard on the peak of a nipple. Tony worked his hands hard into Bruce’s hair, pulling him down so he would stay _there_ suckling at his chest, tracing the rim of the arc reactor with the fingers of his left hand as his right slid down and teased at Tony’s straining erection. Tony’s body responded automatically, hips thrusting up to place him right in Bruce’s hand. Bruce stroked him a few times through his jeans, then jolted to a stop as if he’d decided in an instant that it wasn’t enough, that none of this was enough. He jerked his head up to look Tony in the eye, breathing hard through parted lips, and raised his left hand to stroke the line of Tony’s mouth with his thumb. Tony nipped gently at him, caught the pad of Bruce’s finger and worried it with his teeth. Bruce gave one long shuddering breath and snatched his hand away to rip open Tony’s fly, yanking his pants down just enough to take both of them in his hand at once.

Tony cried out and grasped Bruce’s wrist where he had propped himself up on his left hand, sank his fingers deep into Bruce’s skin. Bruce’s cock was wet and silky-smooth and so _hot_ rubbing against his. Bruce leaned in to kiss him again, his tongue almost as warm as his cock as he slowly fucked Tony’s mouth with it, fingers rubbing circles over the head of Tony’s erection until he was dribbling all over Bruce’s hand. Bruce spread the moisture down his shaft with his thumb, slicked Tony up to slide faster and harder against him until they were both making continuous soft, wet noises against each other’s lips.

Tony could feel the climax welling up inside of him and he _wanted_ it, yes, on a basic physical level, but he wanted more for this to never stop, to encapsulate eternity in this moment, tangled up on the edge with Bruce where everything made sense. He’d had fleeting thoughts like that before in moments like this one, but never with such intensity, with such _sincerity_ – if someone had handed him the tech, if he’d had his wish, if the universe had asked, _are you sure?_ – he would’ve answered _yes, yes! Just this, please, god, please, this. Forever._

No monsters. No unanswered questions. Just warmth and safety, wanting Bruce, and Bruce wanting him and letting himself _have_ this, burying himself in need and pleasure and Tony.

Tony fought it off as long as he could, pushed it down over and over so that when it finally happened it shook him to the marrow, rocketed through his every nerve as he shouted long and hard into Bruce’s mouth. He was still riding out the aftershocks when Bruce went rigid with a cry of his own, increasing the wet, sticky mess in between them before falling hard against him and trembling there.

They clung to each other, bodies pressed tight together, breathing each other’s air, and all Tony wanted was to be closer. The light got dimmer and the shadows lengthened.

“Not that this isn’t the epitome of perfect,” Bruce finally broke the silence. “But I think I need to eat. Like, stat. I can feel the hangry haze around the edges.”

“Hulkout hangry?”

“Naw. Just ‘very unpleasant to be around’ general grumpiness.”

“Heaven forbid.” Tony tried to move and failed spectacularly. “Ohhhh, fuck. Everything hurts. …not your fault.”

Bruce extricated himself and stood up very slowly. “God, we’re disgusting.”

“Ask me how much I care. No really, go on, ask me.” Tony let his lungs refill in the absence of physicist. “Huh. I think this is a first for me.”

Bruce gave both eyebrows a poignant raise. “How. And what.”

“…I’ve never fucked before while wearing shoes. I mean, in a bed.”

“Well, I’m proud I could be here.” Bruce indicated the glistening mess adorning both of them. “How should I, um-”

“Literally any piece of fabric in this room. I mean it, I am absolutely out of give-a-shit.”

“Ahhhn.” Bruce whistled. “I feel like half the things in this room cost more than my average annual income. Post-gamma, that is, but still-”

“Out of fucks, Banner.”

“Ahhhhh ok.” Bruce pulled a drawer open. “This is – this looks like cotton. This is just t-shirt cotton and I’m not going to think any harder than that.” He wiped himself down and then tossed the shirt to Tony, who considered catching it but settled for groaning instead.

“Good lord.” Bruce went back to his side and cleaned him off the best he could. “Are you ok? I feel like I broke you.”

“Hey. I said not your fault once already.” _Not ok. Really not ok at all._ He gave Bruce a weak smile. “Nothing a hot shower and about two weeks of total immobility or possibly unconsciousness won’t fix. Food first, though. Fight the hanger.” He gestured with an extremely floppy hand. “Found some pants. Basic black, comfy _and_ stylish. You’re welcome.” He watched Bruce pull them on as he gingerly readjusted his own pants and rolled his shirt back down. “Help yourself to shirts. Whichever.”

Bruce fumbled his way into the closet and came out sliding on the first thing he’d found, at least Tony assumed – there was just no other excuse for wearing black on black, really now. “Um. Can I wear your shoes? I think we’re about the same size, so…”

“Yeah, yeah. Any that fit. Don’t even worry about it.”

Bruce vanished back into the closet, his voice coming out muffled – “Oh god, I was going to take whichever pair was grubbiest but there just _aren’t any._ ”

A giggle popped its way out of Tony, spasmed in his gut, followed immediately by another and then he realized he couldn’t really stop. Bruce reemerged with a small frown and sat down beside him again.

“You really ok?” He ran clinical fingers over Tony’s scalp, all doctor mode suddenly, searching for bumps.

“Yeah,” Tony gasped, letting Bruce force an arm under him to help him sit up. “Yeah, it’s just been a really long, _stupid_ day.”

Bruce pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

Tony huffed a laugh and scrunched his hands into fists of Bruce’s borrowed shirt, letting his forehead come to rest on the warm solidness of Bruce’s chest, and felt suddenly and completely overwhelmed – like he needed to keep laughing or start crying or maybe just break into screaming pieces. It was to his credit that he managed not to do any of those things and instead just sort of clung. Bruce’s arms came around him and squeezed, _hard_ , and he felt a hint of a tremor there, enough so that he looked up and Bruce’s face – shit. He didn’t know quite what it was he saw there but got the gist of a thousand things not being said. A set to match his own.

_Are we going to talk about this?_

_We probably should, that’s the healthy thing to do, right? The sensible adult thing?_

_I think...I think with you I probably could._

Instead he asked Bruce if he was up for walking a couple of blocks.

“Sure, I can manage.” Bruce offered him an arm and pulled him to his feet. “Are you?”

“Are you kidding?” Tony gave him another smile that felt weird and stiff in his facial muscles. “I’ve been off my feet practically all day.”

Bruce nodded and blinked and just like that the wall was back up.

~*~

Shawarma Palace was not prepared to have the six of them descend on it. It was almost as much of a mess of broken glass and pooled liquids as the penthouse. But the staff were all so polite and accommodating that Tony wanted to scream at them. Instead he smiled and flirted and tipped extremely well.

The whole group of them sitting around a table was like some kind of modern art piece on the theme of exhaustion. He watched with dim fascination as Steve fell asleep right where he sat, as Clint propped his leg up on Nat’s chair and had an entire conversation with her without saying a word.

Only Thor was still functioning at max capacity, tearing through three successive wraps and praising the quality of the food, the scope of everyone’s great deeds in battle, then explaining to Tony how the destruction of the Chitauri mothership had caused every soldier to fall where they stood. _Wow,_ Tony thought sleepily, numbly, _that’s really inefficient._

Thor and Bruce kept exchanging friendly smirks over their cheap plastic baskets as Bruce plowed through all of his own food and then started in on Tony’s, looking so pleased with himself he was practically glowing. He was still smiling when Thor had to carry him out, stone asleep, back to the jet. He never so much as stirred the whole ride back, not even when Thor picked him up again and took him without having to ask to Tony’s quarters.

Tony spent uncounted minutes smoothing Bruce’s hair back from his brow and drinking in the peace on his sleeping face before taking what was, absolutely, without a doubt, the best shower of his life, even if it was cut woefully short by SHIELD’s water-saving policies. Dry and naked and blessedly _clean_ , he shut off the bathroom light and made his way by reactor-glow to bed, tucked himself in just up to the armpits so his arms were free to wrap around Bruce.

Bruce was _out_ , dead to the world – Tony had never seen anyone sleep so soundly, and he felt a piercing shot of loneliness. He thought about trying to wake Bruce up, saying his name, shaking him, but he remembered that look of peace and he couldn’t do it. He focused on Bruce’s deep, gentle breathing and tried to match it.

The sheer full-body tiredness took him then, but it was an uneasy sleep filled with too many dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to be typing this again for a LONG time - scriptlifting from Joss Whedon's 2012 Avengers goes from "Enough! You are all of you beneath me!" to "...and then shawarma after." And of course, "If it's all the same to you, I'll have that drink now."


	12. Loved

When Tony woke up, he was alone, and the empty side of the bed was already cold.

It was quiet as death, and it took a moment for him to realize that it was the absence of the engines’ dull roar that did it. The helicarrier was back on the ground.

He rose slowly, the pain of the day before receding back into a dull, steady ache, and put on the final wrinkled dregs of the backpack. Underneath them he found one last packet of dried cherries, and considering the cafeteria probably wasn’t running on all cylinders, he took it with him.

He knew where to go.

Their old stomping ground was a shell of its former self. Broken glass littered the floor, and the distinct smell of burnt plastic hung in the air. Equipment was tipped and toppled and scattered every which way. Bruce’s trusty monitor had a huge crack running from one corner of the screen down to the other. That didn’t stop the physicist from zoning in on it, squinting hard in the absence of his glasses, fingers elegantly flicking and swiping.

“Hey you,” Tony greeted him, extending cherries.

“Hey yourself,” Bruce replied quietly, snatching and popping fruit like a reflex in a way that made Tony’s chest warm. He was still wearing Tony’s clothes from the night before.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Thank-yous,” Bruce said simply. “For the labs.”

Tony shook his head. “You’re too good.”

“If you say so. I’m sending a mass e-mail this time around – I’m not _that_ good.”

Tony chomped in silence for a few minutes while he watched Bruce’s fingers fly across the screen.

“Well.” The pad of Bruce’s index tapped “send” and he turned, but didn’t quite look. “We’re off the clock.”

Tony swallowed. “How d’you mean?”

“Fury briefed the rest of us about an hour ago. He said we should let you sleep, fill you in when you woke up.” Tony felt a surge of fondness for Nick Fury that he hadn’t realized he was capable of. “Thor’s taking Loki and the Tesseract back to Asgard from Central Park. SHIELD’s setting up a perimeter there with some agents in place so nobody wanders in, but any of us are welcome to go if we want to.”

“Which part of the Park?”

“Bethesda Terrace, I think he said.”

“Huh. SHIELD’ll have to fight the tourists off with a stick.”

Bruce half-smiled. “Secluded is relative.”

“True that. So.” Tony sniffed. “You going?”

“Yeah,” Bruce said softly.

“Closure?”

“…something like that. Romanoff and Barton offered to drive me, since I’m distinctly lacking in the transportation department. And, uh. They also offered to take me anywhere else I needed to go beforehand, and I’m determined to get these” – indicating the clothes – “back to you. So yeah.”

“You don’t have anything else left?”

“Not that isn’t in shreds or doesn’t reek of smoke.”

“You can totally keep those if you want. Or if you need a hand with anything-”

Bruce held his hands up. “Don’t worry about it, I’m totally willing to let SHIELD cover the bill on this one.   I’m considering it payment owed for services rendered.”

“Ok. …clothes shopping with Natasha. That should be fun.”

“Yeah, look how far we’ve come.”

Tony chuckled, but Bruce stayed quiet, staring down at the floor. “…Barton and Romanoff. They also offered to get me anywhere after, bill it to SHIELD. Rentals, plane tickets, official passport, anything.”

Tony made a halfhearted free throw with the empty cherry packet at a slightly charred wastebasket and missed. “You’re free then.”

“I have no delusions that they’re not gonna track me the whole time. Hell, Romanoff basically said as much. But yeah, I guess I’m as free as I’m ever gonna get.”

“So are we-”

“I’m going back,” Bruce blurted out, eyes still turned to the floor. “Back to India, where I started. Before all this. Going to pick up where I left off.”

Tony tried to say something intelligent, something that didn’t betray the way that statement hit him like a particularly vindictive ton of bricks. All that came out was “Oh.”

“Yeah. It – it’ll be good to go back for a change. Not to have to keep on running.”

There were a lot of words that wanted to come out on reflex – mostly things like _How am I going to kiss you when you’re on a different continent? –_ but Tony bit them back in favor of the practical. “I thought you were going to stick around for a while. Y’know, do some research. Try to learn more about your big green other half.”

“Well…a lot of that fear is gone.” Bruce finally looked at him. “Changing like I did – under my own control, on purpose – it made a huge difference. And I’d been over a year without changing at all, before this. The circumstances when I transformed up here were pretty” – he winced, blew a short burst of air through his teeth – “extreme. So I think that if I keep using my old willpower toolbox and only change when I decide to-”

“You really think it’s a good idea to do that outside of a controlled environment?” Tony asked before he could think twice.

“It’s…not something I’m planning on making into a habit – look, this has all been…unexpectedly great, really, thanks. I mean it. Thank you. So much. I’m never going to forget it.” Bruce’s whole face pulled tight, deep worry-lines showing around the edges of his features. His tongue gave a nervous flick over his mouth. “But – I got pulled out, to be here. I left so many things unfinished. I need to go back.”

“Yeah, no, I get that, I do,” Tony affirmed, waving his hands. “It’s just – I didn’t realize I was going to be losing you so soon.” He laughed his way through the end of the sentence – hadn’t meant for _losing you_ to sound dramatic, not at all, but it kind of pointed right at the blaring silence of all the things that weren’t being said.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again,” Bruce said in a voice that suggested he wasn’t at all sure. “If SHIELD comes knocking, if they’re polite about it, maybe we can chase more gamma signatures together sometime.”

“I just-” Tony huffed another short laugh. “Damn it, Bruce, I thought we were going to _keep_ working. Together. Like we talked about. Like, at some point you did a one-eighty on me and I’m having trouble figuring out why.”

“Tony, this…I just don’t think this is very – sustainable.”

Tony blinked at him. “What, ‘sustainable’, what do you mean?”

“You – you’ve already got Pepper, and this – we just don’t have a lot to stand on. I mean, what do we have in common? Beyond being smart and SHIELD having us both on a leash-”

Tony bristled. “SHIELD doesn’t own us, Bruce, not as long as I have anything to say about it. You can’t let them boss you around, you have to stand up to them. Do you – do you need me to help you? Try to get them off your back? ‘Cause I’ve been dealing with their bullshit longer, I could-”

“Tony, don’t. No. That’s not-” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. “That’s not an improvement. I don’t – I’m not looking to trade SHIELD’s leash for yours.”

“Bruce, I don’t want to _control_ you-”

“What is it that you want?”

“I just – I want-” Tony heaved an enormous sigh. “I want you to be happy.”

“Happy,” Bruce repeated flatly.

“It’s that simple, Bruce.”

“Happy,” Bruce said again. “ _Me_.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “ _Yes,_ ” he said emphatically, extending his hands towards Bruce with thumbs and fingers touching.

“Seriously? You really – you think it’s that easy, that you can just be nice to me and fuck me and – it’s going to _fix_ me?”

“I’m not trying to _fix_ you, I – if I could make your life marginally better, Christ, if I could at the very least be a good lay for you-”

Bruce crossed his arms and stared back down at the floor. “…I held it together just fine for years without your pity fucks, Tony. I don’t need them.”

Tony flinched at the word “pity,” prepared to argue, but then clamped his jaw for a second before asking, gently, “Then what do you need?”

“What, are you my therapist now? Why do you care? Why is it even your business?”

“…I’m just not sure why you’re suddenly so determined that I not give a rat’s ass, Bruce.”

“It’s – it’s kind of embarrassing, honestly. Watching you put all this time and energy in, just so – so you can get off on the fact that there’s at least one other person in the known universe who’s as smart as you.”

“Is _that_ what you think this is about?”

“It’s pretty obvious, I mean, I could have saved you a lot of trouble by cutting a hole in my head for you to directly shove your dick in.”

There was a moment of extremely strained silence.

“Ok,” Tony said, very low, “let’s – rewind for a moment here, let’s go back to the part where you tell me exactly what the fuck I did to deserve this. Because I have had your back the entire time we’ve been on this boat. You _know_ I have. Everyone else was ready to tear you apart and I was the only one who-”

“Jesus Christ, take a fucking medal for it.”

“…what the _actual hell,_ Bruce.”

“I made a mistake, ok?” Bruce held his palms out in a gesture of defeat. “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have played into this – whatever it is, this fantasy of yours-”

“Excuse me? Played into – _what_? Because from what I remember you were coming onto me just as hard as I-”

“Oh good _Christ,_ Stark.”

“Oh, sorry, did I – did I _misread_ something there with you being all over me?”

“Just turn your fucking ego down a notch, is all I’m saying-”

“Oh, right, ‘cause that’s always what it’s about, huh? Tony fucking Egomaniac Stark _daring_ to assume you’re into me after you’re all buddy-buddy for what, over a week, and now you think I’m overreacting when you suddenly decide to shove me away?”

Bruce’s eyes flashed. “You don’t have any claim on me.”

“I’m not saying that I do, I just – I don’t fucking _get_ it, Bruce, did I do something wrong?”

“You’re not entitled to everything-”

“I know, I know that! I do-”

“Do you? Really?”

“It’s not like I – like I think you _owe_ me anything-”

“Kinda feels like that.”

“ _No,_ fuck, that isn’t what I – is that why you’re pushing me away?”

“I’m not – I’m not pushing you-”

“You are though, that’s exactly what you’re doing-”

“That’s not what this is-”

“’Cause this, this isn’t _you_ , Bruce,” Tony stuttered, and even now there were so many things he wasn’t saying.

_Because…I thought you liked me. I thought you enjoyed being around me. …there really aren’t all that many people that do, you know? But your smile, and your plans, and god, the way you looked at me when I touched you…I thought…I thought you were one of them._

_I…I like you. So much. I like you and I want you to be ok and I really, really don’t want to lose you._

“You don’t know me.” Bruce was literally shaking with rage, eyes flashing – still brown, but clearly on the edge. Tony recognized every danger signal. He didn’t back down.

“I…I don’t. I really don’t. But I want to – _fuck_ , just tell me why you’re doing this. What happened? What – what did I do to mess things up?”

“ _Don’t_ – just-”

“Please, Bruce, _tell_ me-”

“ _Just leave me alone, Stark!”_

All the metal in the lab rang in the force of his shout. Tony stared down the anger, and he knew better than to do anything to push past the breaking point.

He usually knew better. He just didn’t give all that many fucks, to be honest.

 _“_ …No.”

“… _what_?” Bruce hissed through gritted teeth.

“No. I’m not letting you go just like that – I’ve been there for you, and I’ve worked with you, and we saved a lot of lives together. And you can say whatever you want about it, but I deserve to know why you’re doing this. Just tell me why, Bruce.”

Bruce’s eyes flared green, and for a split second Tony was terribly afraid that the helicarrier was going to sustain a lot more damage and it was going to be all his fault – but then Bruce deflated, all that anger in his face dissipating and turning into a hollow, bitter sadness.

“Please. Leave me alone.”

“Why?”

“It’s better that way. For both of us.”

“Why? Why is it so much better for you to be alone again, Bruce?”

“Because I – I fucking _care,_ Tony.”

Bruce looked him straight in the eye, his face contorted with so much pain that it physically hurt to see it.

“You could’ve – you could’ve _died_ ,” Bruce lashed out at him. “Do you know what I dream about? Over and over again? That I’m trapped – that I’ve transformed and he’s there, there’s nothing but the anger, and _I can’t change back._ ”

Tony stood frozen, completely immobilized by Bruce’s face and voice and the words that kept spilling out of him.

“The first time – the first time I lost a patient. When I was just starting out, trying to play doctor. To keep myself occupied, to do some good. I lost someone. And I changed. For a _week_. There’s – there’s a week-long gap in my life where I don’t remember anything, not where I went, what I did. Who I might have hurt.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Except the anger. I remember that.”

Tony swallowed hard on a dry throat.

“After that I stayed detached. I did my best. Helped where I could. But I kept my distance, because – you’re always going to lose patients, as a doctor. It’s inevitable. I couldn’t – I couldn’t just lose it like that, every time. I learned not to care.

“But _you_ – oh _fuck,_ Tony, I-”

Bruce covered his eyes with his hand and let out a strain of terrified laughter.

“I don’t know how to turn it off. I’m trying. I’m trying _so fucking hard._ I didn’t want to care this much. I didn’t want to care about _any_ of you this much. I can’t – I-”

Tony could see how badly he was shaking from the way his hand trembled against his face, and he was losing all control over his breath – it was coming in short, ragged bursts. He couldn’t see Bruce’s eyes, but he didn’t need to.

“Bruce,” he said, using all the self-control at his disposal to keep his voice calm and even. “I’m coming over.” He took a few careful steps forward to get inside of Bruce’s space. “I’m going to touch you. Just my hands on your shoulders.” He moved his hands there as he said it, resting his palms on Bruce with gentle pressure. “We’re going to breathe, ok? Just that. Nothing else. Don’t worry about anything else right now, all right? You can deal with it later. For now, let’s just breathe. Just like you showed me.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose, then let a long, slow exhale out through his mouth.

_In…Out. In…Out._

Bruce’s breath stuttered for a while longer, but started to fall bit by bit into the same rhythm. Tony felt the weight of Bruce’s hand coming to rest on his with the gentlest of squeezes.

_In…Out._

He opened his eyes and was met with the soft brown of Bruce’s. They took one more breath together before Bruce wrapped his arms around him and broke down, heaving loud, ugly sobs against his shoulder. Tony hugged him back, feeling moisture seeping through fabric and onto his skin.

“Oh God,” Bruce choked out. “I’m so fucked.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered, tangling a hand in Bruce’s hair. “I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss against his jaw. “I’m really sorry.”

“S’not your fault,” Bruce murmured, sniffling.

“No, I mean – I’m sorry, because caring about me obviously causes you a lot of pain, but – I’m so, _so_ glad that you do.” Listening to Bruce, feeling the motion of his sobs, was making the corners of his own eyes go wet. “You really had me worried for a minute there.”

Bruce gave a short, frantic laugh and squeezed him tighter. “I don’t – I don’t think I can do this. Beyond whether or not I even _should_ , I – I physically _can’t._ ”

Tony cleared his throat and blinked a few times. “Would it help if I told you I have absolutely no intention of dying?”

Bruce pulled back to look into his face. “You were so close-”

“I know. God, I know, I’m sorry – I didn’t know what else to do. I _had_ to, Bruce, but – shit, I have zero intention of dying. I _hate_ it when people do that.”

Bruce cupped Tony’s face in his hands and looked him over in a way that wasn’t made any less serious by its general dampness. “I don’t…I don’t think I trust you, Tony.”

“Oh, come on now-”

“No, I don’t trust you not to be the hero.” Bruce shook his head. “Not to do the reckless, stupid, crazy, fucking _heroic_ thing, every damn time – I don’t think you even know how to stop.”

“Bruce, I – I literally built the suit _to keep myself alive._ The first thing I’m going to do once this is all over? Build something that can fling my nukes into space _for_ me. ‘Cause I don’t want to be that guy, I don’t want to die – not for anyone, or anything – I can get so much more done right _here_. I mean, if you’re going to be a hero you do a much better job of it when you don’t go around disappearing on…on everyone…”

He could tell even before he finished articulating his thought that he’d hit Bruce straight in the guilt servers. It was all there in the stricken look on his face.

“I told you, Tony, I’m – I’m not hero material.”

“Says the guy who becomes a one-man Doctors Without Borders when he has too much free time on his hands.”

“That’s not-” Bruce stuttered, flushing, honest-to-god _flushing_. “I’m – I’m not _you_ , I’m not a superhero, not a – what, an Avenger? Is that a thing, now? I’m not _this_ ,” and he threw his hands out to the sides to indicate helicarrier and Initiative and the entire general situation of everything that had happened since SHIELD had busted his door down.

“Ok,” Tony said gently. “That’s probably ok, right? You don’t have to be – although you did just play a huge hand, if you’ll pardon the expression, in saving Midtown and possibly the world from certain destruction, and I guarantee no matter how far you go you’re never going to be able to run away from that.” Bruce was so startled by those implications that he didn’t even try to argue, which Tony found immensely gratifying. “You don’t have to be everybody’s hero. But…you’re kind of mine.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth then he could practically _feel_ his ears going pink. He barreled on in the face of Bruce’s pained expression and his own embarrassment.

“You saved my goddamn _life_. You kept me from becoming a sacrifice. And I’ll always, always be grateful for that, I mean _Christ,_ grateful doesn’t begin to cover it, and I don’t have to make a big deal about it ever again after this if that’s what works for you. But _thank you_. I said it once before but you were considerably bigger and greener at the time, and I’m not all that sure it sank in.” He reached forward and took both of Bruce’s hands in his own with a small squeeze. “Thank you for my life, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce looked back at him all misty-eyed lip trembling and Tony half expected him to break down again, but instead he fucking came out with, “Thor would’ve had it covered if I’d been tied up.”

“You self-effacing _dickbag_ ,” Tony sputtered in adoring frustration, folding Bruce back into his arms. “I care about you right back. And I-I want…”

“What?” Bruce prompted him just above a whisper when he stayed silent. “Tell me what you want.”

Tony took a deep breath. “I want… _you_ , Bruce. In my life. Don’t vanish on me. I want…I want you to do exactly what it is that you want to do. To return to work, to where you left off, whatever. But take me with you – not-not literally, but – stay in touch. Get on the damn phone once in a while. Tell me how you’re doing and if there’s anything I can do to help you. That’s what I want. To stay connected. Not to lose you.”

This was what it was like, then, to watch Bruce’s resolve crumble, to see that play across his face. Tony almost wished he were a good enough person to feel guilty about it. Almost. The elation felt too nice for him to really commit to the guilt.

_Huh. That’s it, then, pretty much all the things I was holding in, all blabbed out. For better or worse._

Except one thing, one last really monstrously (hah) big thing.

“Bruce.” He raised a hand to Bruce’s face, felt the tickly scratch of stubble against his palm, looked him in the eyes as hard as was possible. “Bruce, I-”

“ _Don’t,_ ” Bruce breathed in a panicked whisper, clutching Tony’s hand in both of his as if that would somehow shut him up. “Tony, don’t, _please,_ I – I can only handle so much at a time, ok? You could – you might actually be the thing that kills me with that, just – _don’t._ ”

“Ok,” Tony whispered, “ok,” and he felt his eyes cloud a little because that kind of knee-jerk reaction was achingly sad and a little too familiar. “But you know it. Don’t you? …I don’t have to say it for you to know.”

“No,” Bruce agreed, his face so full, too damn full, of wild-animal-fear. “You don’t.”

“You can come back,” Tony suggested, all tentative hope. “Like we talked about. After you’ve tied up all your loose ends. Between SHIELD and I, we can handle the transport, border crossing, anything you need. And then you and I can study up. Pool all of our resources together. Everything – _everything_ is less scary when you understand it better.”

“Tony,” Bruce sighed, “I can’t possibly ask you to do this-”

“But you’re not, Bruce. _I’m_ asking _you_. I have been since, like, day four. Remember?”

“But the risks” – he gave a dry laugh – “hell, the property damage _alone-_ ”

“We are two of the smartest people on the face of the earth. We’ll figure it out. And if we knock a few buildings down along the way, it’s not like I can’t cover the damages. You’ve been on your own so long – and you’ve done a frankly _spectacular_ job. But it’s been long enough. It is _so very ok_ for you to accept help at this point.”

“I – I want that.” Bruce gave a hollow laugh. “That’s what I want. More than anything. I – I’ve just gotten very used to what I want not mattering much.”

“It matters to me,” Tony managed to say with only the faintest trace of self-consciousness.

Bruce’s mouth twisted into a half-smile. “Because you want me be happy.”

“You bet your ass, Banner.”

“Is that really all you want?”

“Ha. Well.” Tony sighed. “I also _really_ want to take you home with me, remember that? ‘Cause that didn’t go away either. Let me take care of setting you up with transport, planet tickets, whatever, we’ll let SHIELD foot the bill if you want, but come home with me for, hell, a couple of _days_ , maybe? Just enough time that I can introduce you to Pepper and get you a proper phone and fucking _enjoy_ you before you haul yourself off to god knows where. Oh, and spending a whole day in bed would honestly be pretty great also, but if that’s too much to ask-”

Bruce cut off his babbling with a soft, short kiss.

“I don’t know if I can promise you happy,” he admitted. “But security is the next best thing. It’s a concept I’d _really_ like to get to know on an intimate level.”

“…Banner, I’d be happy to help you get to know just about _anything_ on an intimate level.”

“You have to promise me, though.” Bruce’s hands were heavy on his hips. “Keep yourself safe. Stay alive. Because I guarantee that if anything happens to you, I will _completely_ lose my shit.”

Tony heaved an over-dramatic sigh. “God, _yes,_ I’ll be devoting all the resources at my disposal to covering my ass. Like I _always do._ Seriously, the events of yesterday are a _total_ outlier in this equation you have going-”

“This coming from the man who was once almost killed by his own life-support system.”

“And I worked like hell to fix it. Fused a goddamn lost element in my own basement. And consequentially _didn’t die_ , in case you forgot.” Tony sighed again, much less dramatically. “Look. Seriously. I meant what I said – I’ve got way too much to do. I’m not going anywhere. And you can go wherever you need to, travel the world, save lives, be amazing – but I’ll be at the other end of the line, anytime, day or night. All you have to do is ask. You’re not going to lose me. And I’ll be waiting, because I’m not about to lose the world’s best lab partner. Not if I can help it.”

Bruce took in a deep, shuddering breath. “…I really hope you weren’t expecting any response to that besides me sucking on your face.”

“I was kind of counting on it,” Tony said, and he savored the music of Bruce’s tearful laughter as he kissed him and kissed him and kissed him.

~*~

Time passed – slowly, Tony thought. Too damn slowly. He’d forgotten about New York traffic. Not much traffic, forty thousand feet up. He should’ve flown the suit home – but, upon doing a brief mental rewind, he remembered that it was, in fact, already there. Standing stalwart and completely useless in his bedroom. His organization of personal property was currently kind of a mess.

“Unbelievable,” Happy said from the passenger seat. “You are unbelievable. Pepper’s a wreck.”

Tony inched forward, braked slowly. Inch, inch, brake. “You talked to her? Is she ok? Is she here?”

“Fuck no, she’s not ok, what did I just say? She’ll be at the Tower in a few hours, she’s at the old SI right now doing damage control. _Your_ damage control, and she hasn’t even talked to you since this whole thing went down. Would it have killed you to pick up the phone?”

“My phone…” He did another rewind. “Huh. Is in an alcove on a SHIELD helicarrier.”

Happy shook his head with barely restrained fury. ”Un-be- _lievable_.”

“Pepper has no ground to stand on in terms of not answering phones, right now,” Tony insisted, wincing at the memory as the car gained a few more feet.

“Is there a floor on this, Tony? Like, is there any great feat of universal derring-do that isn’t suddenly _your_ job?”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

Happy opened his mouth, promptly shut it, pursed his lips and sat back hard against the car seat. Tony used the ensuing quiet to focus on driving properly.

“Rhodes called me,” Happy stiffly broke the silence. “He got worried when you didn’t return his voice mails. Thought you had a concussion or something.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Happy said through his teeth, “because up until twenty minutes ago _I_ didn’t know whether or not you were concussed. I got a call from Fury, Tony. Director fucking Fury.”

“…I’ll call Rhodey as soon as I finish sending a god and his psychotic world-killing brother back off into space, ok?”

“Jesus, Tony.” Happy stared straight ahead into traffic. “…I’m just glad that anger management case caught you.”

“Me too,” Tony said, the memory of Bruce’s hand still tingling in his fingers from the way he’d squeezed it, right in front of everyone, before being led off a little deer-in-the-headlights by Natasha and Clint. “Me too.”

~*~

He suited up again in the literal sense. It seemed appropriate, for whatever the hell this was.

He also took the Acura, pulled it up within the SHIELD perimeter and parked it amid the green. He’d done a number on the engine so it ran entirely on arc energy. He figured Bruce would appreciate that, wanted to get him into it – liked the idea that this was the machine that would transport Bruce to his place for the first time.

He got out of the car with the silver briefcase in hand. Fury had entrusted him with the job of getting its contents to the launch site. He hadn’t told Happy what was inside – the poor guy would’ve shit bricks.

Everything that passed after that was a series of strange, otherworldly snapshots that didn’t quite feel real:

Steve Rogers pulling up on a motorcycle, riding as if it were just another part of his body. Clint and Natasha with their SHIELD-issue vehicle, and Bruce, wearing a horrible shirt the exact color of sunshine and somehow making it look perfect.

Loki in his chains and muzzle, expression unreadable. Dr. Selvig and Thor talking under their breath, Selvig’s face grim and haunted, Thor’s tired and resigned.

Bruce transferring the Tesseract into the glass and gold cylinder in Selvig’s grasp with a pair of tongs, careful not to let it brush against bare skin. Steve’s expression of profound relief, to see this thing leaving his planet.

The scant few centimeters between Nat and Clint, the two of them whispering and gesturing to one another. The moments when they held still and even then seemed like one unit, rather than two separate people.

Then Thor shared one last warm embrace with his friend the astrophysicist before twisting the handle on the cylinder containing the Tesseract. And in a dazzling splash of blue light, he and his brother were gone.

The rest of them took a moment, then, for Phil Coulson. Tony had railed at Fury when he’d proclaimed back on the helicarrier that there would be no public ceremony, due to the level of secrecy Coulson had performed at during life. It seemed like a shallow excuse, like there was something deeper hiding underneath it that Tony couldn’t put his finger on. He’d talked to Steve, then, and they’d agreed – they had to do _something_ , couldn’t let Phil’s absence go by unspoken. It would’ve been better with Thor, but taking time to honor Coulson’s memory while his murderer stood by in chains was unthinkable to all of them.

They each spoke their piece in turn, words like _good_ and _friend_ and _brave_ , even Dr. Selvig whose stories of stolen equipment had them all laughing. That was good – it was never a real funeral, never a good memorial, without at least one hearty laugh. Bruce stood back a little, not speaking but listening hard, his face a mask of sorrowful awkwardness.

When all the rest of them had finished saying a few words, Tony cleared his throat and looked around the circle at each one of them.

“Phil Coulson’s death was completely unnecessary.”

Natasha’s eyes flashed with surprise, Selvig’s with anger. Steve gave the barest of nods. When none of them spoke up to argue, he continued.

“He was inarguably one helluva courageous guy. He was a good agent and an even better man. But I can’t shake the idea that if he hadn’t gone into that room alone, I wouldn’t have to keep using the past tense. SHIELD wouldn’t have lost one of the best people they ever had. And we wouldn’t have lost a friend.”

He could feel Bruce’s gaze boring into him and didn’t dare look. Instead he watched as Clint slipped his hand into Natasha’s and she gave it a squeeze.

“Director Fury and I don’t agree on much, but one thing he said that I know, beyond a doubt, is true – Phil Coulson believed in heroes. He believed in the idea of the Avengers Initiative. And after yesterday, I can finally see why.”

It was the most he had let himself look back and reflect on the events of the day before since the whole thing had happened. His body’s first instinctual reaction to the memory was cold sweat, and he fought to keep the tremor in his skin from reaching all the way to his voice. “Could one of us have stood up to the invasion? Could one of us, on our own, have kept Midtown from being wiped off the map? …maybe. Possibly. But I doubt we would have made it out alive.”

He couldn’t keep from glancing at Bruce any longer. Bruce met his gaze with deep, sad eyes, but also with the slightest quirk of his mouth that seemed to say _I get it, Tony, enough already._

“What I’m trying to say,” he said, with a slight smile of his own, “is that if you need me, call me. Especially if that’s gonna be the thing that keeps you from barreling in by yourself. Just ask, and I’ll be there – and I’ll bring the armada, if I can. And in return, I promise to try not to plow into the room alone, either.”

Steve gave a dry chuckle. “Likewise,” he agreed.

“Same,” Natasha added.

“Hell yeah,” Clint said under his breath.

Bruce crossed his arms and pressed his lips hard together. “Let me know if any of you ever need a _physicist,_ ” he said, and Steve chuckled again as Tony felt himself beaming with patently unguarded fondness.

“Or an astrophysicist,” Selvig added. “And I think I can safely speak for Thor, whenever he happens to be visiting our planet – you’ll never find another soul more loyal.”

“We’re agreed then,” Tony concluded, and let the words ring out loud and clear – “For Phil.”

There was no weeping, just a dull thrum, the subdued energy of anger, loss, and determination. Although he suspected his own tears were waiting for him, somewhere in the spaces between Bruce and India and the vast expanse of the universe, stars and planets and emptiness.

“For Phil,” the rest of them echoed.

~*~

It was all goodbyes after that – Clint and Selvig standing together with the same haunted look in their faces. The heavy warmth of Steve’s parting handshake. The lighter warmth of Natasha’s smile in the distance as she handed Bruce the bag that contained everything he had to his name.

And then there was just Bruce, remaining. Four goodbyes and one really glorious hello.

Tony pinched bright yellow fabric between his fingers. “Natasha pick this out for you?”

“Who’s to say anyone picked it out for me?” Bruce countered. “Who’s to say I don’t have the balls to try and pull this off with absolutely zero prompting or cajoling?”

Tony threw an arm around his shoulder and led him to the Acura. “Do you have any fucking idea how glad I am that you’re here right now?”

“Yeah,” Bruce replied softly. “Yeah, I think I do.”

This was Dr. Bruce Banner in his car, filling out and taking up space and looking so beautifully _real_ , possibly venturing to distant corners of the globe in the all-too-near future but in absolutely no danger of ever disappearing.

Tony put his foot to the accelerator and took them home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. That's that. ...I will neither confirm nor deny that I'm kinda emotional right now.
> 
> This was such a great experience from the ground up - getting back into writing, getting on AO3 for the first time, and the incredible kindness and support of the fic community. To all of you who left kudos, who wrote comments, and who subscribed - you took what started off as goofing around and turned it into a deeply meaningful experience. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> Special thanks to [Trammel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Trammel) for being my first full-on fanfic pal, and for writing amazing heartfelt fic.
> 
> A small shameless ploy - if you'd like fic updates and more science bros nonsense, you can check out my Marvel tumblr [here](http://pepperonywsciencehalf.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Bye for now. <3


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